<ty\j)r 



.mfr 



/ 



^ 



r^:^c^g;gp^aQ;;:g;:c^;^;:c^:^;£^ - ^ ^ 



i LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. | 



Chap. IJxSL^TLS..-, 
Shelf ,,..^_Cl»..G 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



^i^^.->«rr-'^»r^^^<rr>-»^'«r-Mr- 



?^e 






^ 



i 




FIRST PRESIDENT OF THE REPUBLIC. 



"DEMPSBY & CARROLL." 



He was not of an age, but for all time ; Sweet swan of avon ! 

Ben Johnson. 

— He left the name at which the world grew pale. 
To point a moral or adorn a talc. 

Dr. Johnson. 



Edited i;y 
Mr. GEOK-GH ». CAHK-OL,!^. 



Copyright 1882. 







w 
XHE ART SXATIOISEIC.S AI^O EI«G».AVK«.S, 

Union Square (South), 

46 East Fourteenth Street, near BROAnwAY, 

New York. 

J" 



NOTICE, C3 



SELF. — Explore the dark recesses of the mind, 
In the soul's honest volume read mankind. 
And own, in wise and simple, great and small. 
The same grand leading principle in all, 

and by whatever name we call 
The ruling tyrant. Self is all in all. 

Churchill. 

At a cost of ($10,000) ten thousand dollars., in the falls of 
1880 and j88 I, we published and distributed gratuitously, thou- 
sands of volumes of " The Art of Correspondence " and 
"Diamonds from Brilliant Minds"/ they were enthusiastic, 
ally endorsed by the most learned of the land. After the editions 
were exhausted^ thousands of letters were received soliciting a copy. 
That all may have an opportunity to obtain the Letters, Poetry^ 
Proverbs, Quotations from Shakespere , A£sop's Fables with Appli- 
catiotis, (written one hundred years ago,) we have published the 
three books in one volume, Ti^iax^^^y & Carroll's Oems^ 
which will be sold for $2.00, and numbered slips will be de- 
livered TVith each book, which we will receive in payment for its 
face value, .$2.00 on aU purchases of Stationery amounting to the 
sum of ■$ 10.00. 

It is unquestionably one of the most valuable books ever pub- 
lished. 

Sent by mail, free of postage, on receipt of $2.00. 

DEMPSEY &- CARROLL. 



TO OUR PATROKS 

WHOSE KIND FAVORS HAYE ENSURED OUR SUCCESS 
WE INSCRIBE THIS YOLUME. 



There is a tide in the affairs of men. 

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. 

Omitted, all the voyage of their life 

Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. 

On such a full sea are we now afloat ; 

And we must take the current when it serves, 

Or lose our ventures. 

Shakespere. — Julius Cifsar. 



Again -uy-e present our compliments to our customers 
•with, thanks for their continued, iavors, and our conse- 
quent grand success, T^hich. is unequaled. in the history 
cf any Stationery and engraving establishment in this or 
any other country. 



I can no other answer make but thanks, 
And thanks ; and ever oft good turns 
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay. 



Shakespele. 



OUR ESTABLISHMENT is now the largest devoted 
strictly to our line of business, and -we produce the finest 
-work and best material in the "world, at lo"wer prices than 
any other house. We execute our o"wn work and. defy 
competition. Please visit our workrooms, for pleasure and 
information. 

Your Obedient Servants, 

DEMPSEY & CARROLL, 

Union Square South, Art Stationers and Engravers, 

Near Broad'way. 



ON SOCIAL ETIQUETTE ACCEPTED AUTHORITY. 



Wedding Etiquette and Usages of Polite Society, 

Price, $l.SO. 

Tl]e Art of Gorrespondence and Usages of Polite Society, 

Price, $2.00. 

The Art of Dinner Giving and Usages of Polite Society, 

Price, $1.50. 

Diamonds from Brilliant Minds, . . price, $2.00. 



Mourning Etiquette, 

Happy Thouglitl "Dempsey & Garroll," 
Quotations from Shakespere and ^sop's Fables, 



Sent free 



Price, 
$2.00. 



Dempsey & Garroll's Gems, 



Price, $2.00. 



Three Books in one: " DIAMONDS FROM BRILLIANT MINDS," 300 
Poetical Quotations and 650 selected Proverbs ; " THE ART OF 
CORRESPONDENCE," 176 Letters written by 146 men and women 
of distinction ; " HAPPY THOUGHT ! DEMPSEY & CARROLL." 
Gleanings from Shakespere and fifty culled ^sop's Fables, with appli- 
cations, written one hundred years ago ; a volume of the best literature 
of all ages ; endorsed by the President, Vice-Preside nt , members of 
the Cabinet, Senators, Congressmen, and thousands of men and women 
of culture and education. 

SENT BY MAIL on receipt of Price, $2.00. 



CONTENTS, 



General George Washington's Coat-of-Arms, Frontispiece 
Title Page, ...... i 

Please Notice, . . . . . .2 

To our Patrons, ..... 3 

Our Publications, . . . . . .4 

Contents, ....... 5 

Christian Roth's Story, . . . . 6, 7 & 8 

Wedding Invitations, ..... 9 

Claude Melnotte's Palace by the Lake of Como, 10 

Eight Sheets of Samples— Wedding Invitations, Receptions, 
Cards, &c., from Steel Plates. 



BOOK OXB. 

GLEANINGS FROM SHAKESPERE— 7>//^, . . i 

Index to Plays of Shakespeare, . > • 3 

Shakespere's Birth, Death, &c., . . .4 

' ' Biographical, . . . 5 & 6 

Shakespere's Plays, . . • . 7 to 182 



CARD ETIQUETTE FOR LADIES, . . i to 12. 

" GENTLEMEN, . i to 8. 

Five Plates — Samples of Monograms, Coats-of-Arms, Street 

Address Dies, Country Seat Dies, Fac-simile? and 

Name Dies. 



BOOK Xl^O. 

^SOP'S FABLES AND APPLICATIONS— Te//^-, . i. 

Contents, . . . . . . 2. 

^sop, History of . . . . 3 & 4- 

Fifty Selected ^sop's Fables, with Applications 
written over 100 years ago, . . 5 to 54. 



SELECTED POEM. 



Christian Hoth's Story. 

[Stuttgart, May, 1882.] 

I've called, Mr. Consul, this morning, to ask, if you please, your 

advice 
On a matter that gives me great worry — "Let's hear it (wants 

money, I know)." 
Here's my citizen-paper — ("All right.") — I was born in the Schwarz- 

walder Kreis, 
At Schramberg, and went to America forty-five years ago. 

Yes, I'm near seventy now, and you see that my step is unsteady — 

Plenty of trouble, I tell you — I settled in North Illinois, 

And there, ever since, I've been working and saving up, so that 

already 
I've got a nice farm, Mr. Consul, that goes by-and-by to my boys. 

How many children ? There's four, three boys and a girl. We've 

had seven; 
But when the war came along, my William and Carl marched 

away. 
Both of them fell on the field, and last winter the good Lord in 

Heaven 
Called home our dear little Minnie — she's twelve years old to-day. 

Yes, the old woman is living. She's there with the boys on the 

place , 
And our Lina keeps house for them all. Next spring she'll be just 

twenty-four. 
She's the handsomest girl in the county; there's sunshine all over 

her face ; 
I can hear even now her sweet voice as she told me farewell at the 

door. 



Christian Roth's Story — Continued. 



Why I left? Well, perhaps, Mr. Consul, 'twere better the truth 

weren't told. 
But no matter — it wasn't my fault. My old woman and I had a fight. 
She is sick and can't work any more, and she's idle. We're both 

getting old ; 
So she's cross, and will have it that I'm always wrong and that she's 

always right. 

It hasn't been always that way. In the days when we worked for 

our bread 
And hadn't a dollar laid by in the bank, she and I were all good 
And happy together; but since we began to be getting ahead 
She has tried to be boss over me, and I didn't intend that she should. 

And when our poor dear Minnie died, I had hoped that the fight 

would die, too. 
But no ! it lived on just the same, and one day, about four weeks 

ago, 
The old woman sent out for a lawyer, and then, for the first time, I 

knew 
That she wanted to separate from me — from 7ne, who have borne 

with her so. 

And the boys they all tried to make peace; she would listen to 

naught that they said, 
But my Lina stood up by my side — though she spoke not, 'twas easy 

to see, 
As she put her sweet arms round my neck, and rested her beautiful 

head 
On my breast, that her dear heart was full of the tenderest pity for me. 

And I said: " My Christina, we've labored and struggled together 

till now ; 
Our children are grown, and you want us to separate, now we are 

old? 
No lawyer can part us, Christina, no lawyer can sever our vow, 
But I'll leave you, and go forth alone on my way through the rain 

and the cold." 

Then my poor Lina cried, and she bade me reflect, and the boys 

they said "Stay! " 
And I paused for a moment and looked at Christina — she said not a 

word. 
One word would have kept me. But no, it came not, and I hurried 

away, 
And my Lina's sweet voice "Oh, dear father, come back," was the 

last that I heard. 



Christian Roth's Story — Continued. 



And so I have wandered back here to the scenes of my childhood 

and youth ; 
Have stood by the grave of my father and mother — have seen the 

old home 
On the hillside at Schramberg- — and yet, Mr. Consul, to tell you the 

truth, 
I find that I cannot be happy while far from the loved ones I roam. 

For my sweet Lina's words, "(9i, dear father, come back,''' always 

. ring in my ears, 
And I'm going this day ; but for fear there should come on the 

journey some ill. 
There's no telling, you know, what might happen, perchance, to a 

man of my years, 
I have come, Mr. Consul, this morning, to ask you to draw up my 

will. 

And I want you to make my old woman entitled to all that I've got 
In case of my death. After all I can trust her to do what is fair 
By the children in case she survives me. Just say that I, Christian 

Roth— "What! 
Is your name Christian RotJi ? Here's a letter addressed to you 

here in my care." 

A letter ! My Lina'' s handwriting, and postmarked at Scott, 

Illinois. 
Here, quick, let me read it: '■'■Dear father, my mother implores 

you to come. 
She tenderly asks your forgiveness; and now, she and I and the 

boys 
Are lovingly waiting your coming, aiid eager to welcovie you home.*^ 

George L. Catlin, 

U. S. Consul at Stuttgart. 



DEMPSEY & MRROLL, 

ARTISTIC ENORAVERS & STATIONERS. 



Jnvttattofts* 



46 East Fourteei^th Street, (Omor? Square South,) 

Near Broadway. 



Pai/line. — Sweet Prince, tell me again of thy palace by the lake of ComO, 

Claude Melnotte. — Naj"-, dearest, nay, if thou wouldst have me paint 
The home to which, could Love yulfil its prayers. 
This hand would lead thee, listen ! — A deep vale 
Shut out by Alpine hills from the rude world ; 
Near a clear lake, margln"d by iruits of gold 
And whispering myrtles ; glassing softest skieS, 
As cloudless, save with rare and roseate shadow's, 
As I would have thy fate ! 

Pauline. My own dear love ! 

Claude Melnotte. — A palace lifting to eternal summer 
Its marble walls, from out a glossy bower 
Of coolest foliage musical with birds. 
Whose songs should sj'llabie thy name ! At noon 
We'd sit beneath the arching vines, and wonder 
Why Earth could be unhappy, while the Heavens 
Still left us youth and love ! We'd have no friends 
That were not lovers ; no ambition, save 
To excel them all in love ; we'd read no books 
That were not tales of love — that we might smile 
To think how poorly eloquence of words 
Translates the poetry of hearts like ours ! 
And when night came, amidst the breathless Heaven, 
We'd guess what star should be our home when love 
Becomes immortal; while the profound light 
Stole through the mists of alabaster lamps. 
And every air was heavy with the sighs 
Of orange-groves and music from sweet lutes. 
And murmurs of low fountains that gush forth 
r the midst of roses ! — Dost thou like the picture ? 

— The Lady oj" Lyons. 



iitif ^p^hH^ ^[^bhtttg Inmldixrn* 

Superiority in every particular. WE ARE THE OHLY 
EKGRAYERS WHO EXECUTE OUR OWH WORK. CaU and 
examine our shop and verify our assertion. Ho obligation 
to take inferior Engraving, poor Paper and Envelopes, and 
Murred v^crk. BY OUR PATEHT PROCESS WE AGREE 
TO DELIVER HO BLURRED WORK. See our samples 
here'with furnished. 

Yours to Command, 

DEMPSEY & CARROLL. 



Church Vv* coding- 



Plate 



'Cr ; ; 



yy/ 



//>^'r ^ 



^ , 



AJ.' //y^:7^6mya^er ' ^. ^ ^ /./ Uy/ ///-j 






'/' 






(oA^y/Ce^ r 



^r/'/j'/yWi r/r/, 



77^^n^e4-i^6 



■o/u-^ ye^t^^n^yn^, c^ 



e^/'ye^^^/^'-n^^y. ^S'SF. 



X^^^ ,^^^:^Ct^ y<9yc€o^?/(>. 



r. 



^ //y ' /// //' J ' y // // /'/■ ■// ; 



> ,y 



■ '//y/f ■ '^'V^/'en^fe^ yf ///^/ r ////^,y ^A/^/^r/ <■ ^/rrf/. 



Hous?: Wedding- 



r L AT I 



Or: S^' ^^'fiyri-.' )v////////^ / - / //// // // 



/yr.j/ /// / /y A //'-y///v Or^ '7// ///' /v / //// ^ f / / // 






f 



///'//■ f //f / / f/ // Z/^' /■ 



^/// 






// /' - // - //"///^ A v/ ////// vy. 



y/X^ ////// //''f,//' A^y7^eTC ^.'//^ r/ . 



o 



f.yy^c %''>7^ Z<rjn )^v if '^//^^ ^ ^' ^ //A^r/r 



WtDDiNO RCCCPTION 



Plate 



//. / 



/./ ^ '///////// ^ 



/ / '/// / // // // / / /// , 

ry' 



vv////;y/ ////' //////.y///V 






^.^^ 



/^/^^4C/:?>/-/-^^<^^/v ////// / rrr// ///'■// /'/ ///r/} ^/v//////// 



//-/ 






// / / '/// 



/ /■/ //y.j//'// ; 



r //y/ci^/^ j^/je-/// // // 



^.^ j^/je-//./ /^ y . 



\w^//r /// /, 



Cj^//^' /// r r / ////// 



y 



,.-<y?^»«^ ,.«i/ // // / /'/''/ I" /'A'-. 



/>^^ _ ^//^ 



/ r // r/Yi' 



/^^^ 



Wedding- Announcement 



<■ -^//y. ^ y/^/ff rf /'r/ ' /r . ' >7 ^ // /V/'//, 



/ 



///.>., .^//,rr ^'. Wo/r/„„,W. 



r f f/'f /VV /V/, 



' '^/^ ff /-.J^/rf Y , ' y^^y //f rr /'f/ tr f erf/c/ ///A . /S,'^,^. 



'/■v/" ■/f^fi / /t , Cyri/i^i 



Wedding- Reception Card 



Plate 6 



>■ /f r/r// //<// 



y /f /// r/^/// 



//// 



/r / /rjfy yOy€'/<'> 



S%9. 



'YZ^^y..!M:>?-h' ryv-i'efi^^e-'. 



Ceremony Card 






^,7/^ A a // A a.^)'/ ,tie'7^^yO'iy yO/Mo 



// A a<!M ^-e'7''€^iy yO/yyo-f^/ 



Church Card 



'f_//e<^,j^ A /'€^€ // / ' / / //' ' ' // /^ rr// . 



m' 



"Y.//fy;ji^/// // ' r/f // /■ //n // /// Jef'/^/iA/f 



Ladies visiting- cards 



P LATE 7 



/: / 






/'//////> 



/ // 






^/9£2 c^ 



///.}.} ^ / / / /^ // f- _^/ / 7 // /^/.J //^ ■// 



GeintlemeinS Visiting Cards 



Plate £ 






"^a^^t/zer^^^y^J /v'' ^Z '' w/ 



///// t'e^nj'ty^y, '&/Uyf^'. 



y/M'^jA..rry '//.,/^r. 



o///<^-/t.^rf:ifJftf '/////■. 




fil<: Uc^/ 



from 



Lives of great men all remind us, 

We can make our lives sublime ; 
And departing leave behind us 

Footprints on the sands of time. 

Longfellow. 



Theatre Parties. 

Souvenir Programmes for Theatre Parties, giving cast 
of the play, with or without souper menu, either simple 
or very elaborate, executed by us. Samples on exhi- 
bition. 



Xliis Rool^. 

Type Setting and Printing was executed by us on our 
premises. 

EIGHT STEAM Printing Presses. 

Sixteen Copper and Steel Plate Printing Presses. 

(75) seventy-five employees. 

The largest establishment of its kind in the world, al- 
ways open for inspection and instruction. 



Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, 
And mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair; 

Byron, 



PLAYS OF SHAKESPERE. 



COM^£D1ES. 

All's Well that Ends Well, 
As You Like It, ... 

Comedy of Errors, 
Love's Labor's Lost, 
Measure for Measure, . 
The Merchant of Venice, 
Merry Wives of Windsor, 
A Midsummer-Nights Dream, . 
Much Ado About Nothing, . 
The Taming of the Shrew, 

The Tempest, 

TwELFrH Night, 

The Two Gentlemen of Verona, 

The Winter's Tale, . 



HISTORICAL.. 



King John, 
King Richard II, 
King Henry IV (Part i), 
" *' " (Part 2), 

- V, . 

VI (Part I), 
" " " (Part 2), 

" " (Part 3), 
King Richard III, . 
King Henry VITT, 



PAGE. 

7 
II 

17 

21 

25 
. 29 

35 

■ 39 
43 

• 47 
51 

■ 55 
59 

. 6:; 



67 
71 
75 
79 
83 
87 
90 

91 

95 

10^ 



TRAOEI>IES 



Antony and Cleopatra, 

Coriolanus, . 

Cymbeline, 

Hamlet, .... 

Jl'lius C.bsar, . 

King Lear, 

Macbeth, . 

Othello, 

Romeo and Juliet, . 

TiMON of Athens, 

Titus Andronicus, 

Troilus and Cressida, . 



i-AGE. 
Ill 
117 
121 
125 
135 

145 
149 

155 
163 

171 

175 
179 



OJILLIAm §P)AKG?PGRG, 

BOKn APRIL 23, 1564, 
DIGD APRIL 23, 1616, 
' AGGD 53 YGARS;. 

^TRATFORD-aPOn-AVOn. 



Judicio Pylinni, genio Socraiem^ arte Maronem, 
Terra tegit, popiUus mceret, Olympus habei. 

Stay, passenger, why dost thou go so fast ? 
Read, if thou canst, whom envious death hath placed 
Within this monument; Shakespere, with whom 
Quick nature died; whose name doth deck the tomb 
Far more than cost; since all that he hath writ 
Leaves living art but page to serve his wit. 

Obiit. An°. Dni. i6i6. 

aet. 53, die 23 Apri. 



Good Friend for lesus SAKE forbcare 
To diGG T-E Dust EncloAsed HERe 

Blese be T-E Man ^ spares T-Es Stones 
And curst be he moves my bones. 



WILLIAM SHAKESPERE, POET, BIOGRAPHIGAL. 



Nature listening stood, whilst Shakespere play'd, 
And wonder'd at the work herself had made. 

Churchill. — The Author. 

Williavi Shakespere was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, in War- 
wickshire, on the 23d day of April, 1564. His father, John Shake- 
spere, was a considerable dealer in wool, and had been an officer 
and bailiff of the body corporate of Stratford. Our illustrious poet 
was the eldest son, and received his early education at a free school. 
From this he appears to have been soon removed and placed in the 
office of some country attorney. 

In his eighteenth year he married Anne Hathaway, eight years 
older than himself. Being detected with a gang of deer-stealers in 
robbing the park of Sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlecote, he was so 
vigorously prosecuted by that gentleman, as to be obliged to leave 
his family and take shelter in London. 

On his arrival in London, which was probably in 1586, when he was 
twenty-two years old, he is said to have made his first acquaintance 
in the play-house, to which idleness or taste may have directed him, 
and where his necessities, if tradition may be credited, obliged him 
to accept the office of call-boy, or prompter's attendant. But in 
whatever situation he was first employed at the theatre, he appears 
to have soon discovered those talents which afterwards made him 

Th' applause, delight, the wonder of our stage ! 

Some distinction he probably first acquired as an actor, although 
Mr. Rowe has not been able to discover any character in which he 
appeared to more advantage than that of the Ghost in Hamlet. 

How long he acted has not been discovered, but he continued to 
write till the year 16 14. During his dramatic career he acquired a 
property in the theatre, which he must have disposed of when he 
retired, as no mention of it occurs in his will. 



The latter part of Shakespere's life was spent in ease, retire- 
ment, and the conversation of his friends. He had accumulated 
considerable property, which Gildon, (in his " Letters and Essays," 
1694), stated to amount to 300/. per annum, a sum at least equal to 
1,000/. in our days. 

We have no account of the malady, which at no very advanced 
age, closed the life and labors of this unrivalled and incomparable 
genius; and the only notice we have of his person is from Aubrey, 
who says, ' * he was a handsome, well-shaped man ; ' ' and adds, 
' ' verie good company, and of a very ready, and pleasant and smooth 
wit." 

He died on his birthday, Tuesday, April 23, 1616, when he had 
exactly completed his fifty- second year, and was buried on the north 
side of the chancel, in the great church at Stratford, where a monu- 
ment is placed in the wall, on which he is represented under an arch, 
in a sitting posture, a cushion spread before him, with a pen in his 
right hand, and his left rested on a scroll of paper. 

In the year 1741, a monument was erected to our poet in West- 
minster Abbey, by the direction of the Earl of Burlington, Dr. 
Mead, Mr. Pope, and Mr. Marty n. It was the work of Scheemaker, 
(who received 300/. for it,) after a design of Kent, and was opened 
in January of that year. The performers of each of the London 
theatres gave a benefit to defray the expenses, and the Dean and 
Chapter of Westminster took nothing for the ground. The money 
received by the performance at Drury Lane theatre amounted to 
above 200/,, but the receipts at Covent Garden did not exceed 100/. 

Shakespere died in 16 16; and seven years afterwards appeared 
the first edition of his plays, published at the charges of four book- 
sellers, — a circumstance from which Mr. Mai one infers, "that no 
single publisher was at that time willing to risk his money on a com- 
plete collection of our author's plays." 

Thou, in our wonder and astonishment, 
Hast built thyself a livelong monument, 

Milton. — On Shakespere, 1630. 



£nds Weff. 



View the whole scene, with critic judgment scan. 
And then deny him merit if you can. 
Where he falls short, 'tis nature's fault alone: 
Where he succeeds, the merit's all his own. 

Churchill. 



Hand-Painted Oinner Cards. 

We have in stock the most elaborate variety of HAND- 
PAINTED Dinner Cards in this city. It is a speciaitjf 
with us, and our execution and assortment is acknowl- 
edged by connoisseurs to be unequaled. Your examin- 
ation solicited. 



From the time we first began to know, 
We live and learn, but not the wiser grow. 

POMFRET. 



Ms MrlUliat 6jnhs mi 



Love all, trust a few, 
Do wrong to none: be able for thine enemy 
Rather in power than use ; and keep thy friend 
Under thy own life's key: be check'd for silence, 
But never tax'd for speech. 



From lowest place when virtuous things proceed, 

The place is dignified by the doer's deed: 

Where great additions swell, and virtue none, 

It is a dropsied honor: good alone 

Is good, without a name; vileness is so: 

The property by what it is should go 

Not by the title. * * * 



Honors best thrive, 
When rather from our acts we them derive 
Than our fore-goers: the mere word's a slave, 
Debauch'd on every tomb; on every grave, 
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb, 
Where dust and damn'd oblivion is the tomb 
Of honor'd bones indeed. 



Let's take the instant by the forward top; 
For we are old, and on our quick 'st decrees 
Th' inaudible and noiseless foot of time 
Steals ere we can effect them. 



Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie, 
Which we ascribe to heaven ; the fated sky 
Gives us free scope ; only, doth backward pull 
Our slow designs, when we ourselves are dull. 



lO 



Let me not live, — 
Thus his good melancholy oft began, 
On the catastrophe and heel of pastime, 
When it was out, — let me not live, quoth he, 
After my Jlame lacks oil, to be the snuff 
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensive senses 
All but new things disdain; whose judgments are 
Mere fathers of their garments; whose constancies 
Expire before their fashions: — This he wish'd: 
I, after him, do after him wish too, 
Since I nor wax, nor honey, can bring home, 
I quickly were dissolved from my hive. 
To give some laborers room. 



What I can do, can do no hurt to try, 
Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy: 
He that of greatest works is finisher, 
Oft does them by the weakest minister: 
So holy writ in babes hath judgment shown, 
When judges have been babes. Great floods have flown 
From simple sources ; and great seas have dried , 
When miracles have by the greatest been denied. 
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there 
Where most it promises; and oft it hits, 
Where hope is coldest, and despair most sits. 



That I should love a bright particular star, 

A.nd think to wed it, he is so above me: 

In his bright radiance and collateral light 

Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. 

The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: 

The hind, that would be mated by the lion, 

Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague, 

To see him every hour; to sit and draw 

His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, 

In our heart's table ; heart, too capable 

Of every line and trick of his sweet favor. 



The honor of a maid is her name; and no legacy is so rich as 
honesty. 



asUouUfieJi 



Are these the choice dishes the doctor has sent us ? 
Is this the great poei whose works so content us ? 
This Goldsmith's fine feast, who has written fine books ? 
Heaven sends us good meat^ but the Devil sends cooks. 

Garrick. 



Souvenir Menus. 

Menus for private or public dinner parties are a leading 
feature of our establishment having on our premises 
our artists, and executing the work, we can please the 
most fastidious. The richest and most recherche menus 
produced in this city are from our establishment. 
Samples on exhibition, prices ranging from 50 cents 
each to $10 each. Caricature Menus, on which is 
painted some particular characteristic of the guest, 
is a happy and amusing feature in which we are very 
successful. 



Nothing is new; we walk where others went; 
There's no vice now but has its precedent. 

Herrick. 



£s i@on EihF B. 



THE SEVEN AGES. 

All the world's a stage, 
And all the men and women merely players ; 
They have their exits and their entrances ; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, 
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. 
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel 
And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover; 
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad 
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then, a soldier; 
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, 
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, 
Seeking the bubble reputation 

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justice; 
In fair round belly, with good capon lined, 
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut, 
Full of wise saws and modem instances; 
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon; 
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side; 
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 
For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice. 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, 
That ends this strange eventful history, 
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion; 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing. 



I know, the more one sickens, the worse at ease he is; and that 
he that wants money, means, and content, is without three good 
friends: — That the property of rain is to wet, and fire to bum: 
That good pasture makes fat sheep: and that a great cause of the 
night is lack of the sun. That he, that hath learned no wit by na- 
ture nor art, may complain of good breeding, or comes of a very 
dull kindred. 



14 



He that a fool doth very \Wsely hit, 
Doth very foolishly, although he smart, 
Not to seem senseless of the bob; if not, 
The wise man's folly is anatomized 
Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool. 



Good -morrow, fool, quoth I. No, sir, quoth he, 

Call me not fool, till heaven hath sent me fortune 

And then he drew a dial from his poke; 

And looking on it with lack-lustre eye, 

Says, very ^visely, It is ten o'xlock: 

Thus may ive see, quoth he, how the world wags. 

' Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine; 

And after an hour more, ^ twill be eleven; 

And so, from hour to hour, we ripe, and ripe. 

And theti, from hour to hour, we rot, and rot; 

And thereby hangs a tale. 



Sweet are the uses of adversity; 

Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous, 

Wears yet a precious jewel in his head; 

And this our life, exempt from public haunt. 

Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks. 

Sermons in stones, and good m every thing. 



We still have slept together, 
-Rose at an instant, leam'd, play'd, eat together; 
And wheresoe'er we went, like Juno's s^vans, 
Still we went coupled, and inseparable. 



Think not I love him, though I ask for him; 

'Tis but a peevish boy: — yet he talks well; — 

But what care I for words ? yet words do well, 

When he that speaks them pleases those that hear. 

It is a pretty youth:— not very pretty: — 

But, sure, he's proud; and yet his pride becomes him; 

He'll make a proper man. The best thing in him 

Is his complexion; and faster than his tongue 

Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. 



15 



K ever you have look'd on better days, 

If ever been where bells have knoll 'd to church, 

If ever sat at any good man's feast, 

If ever from your eyelids wiped a tear. 

And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied, 

Let gentleness my strong enforcement be. 



LOVE. 



Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love. 

It is to be all made of sighs and tears; — 

It IS to be all made of faith and service; — 

It is to be all made of fantasy; 

All made of passion, and all made of wishes; 

All adoration, duty, and obser\'ance; 

All humbleness, all patience, all impatience; 

All purity, all trial, all obedience. 



MARRIAGE ALTERS THE TEMPER OF BOTH SEXES. 

Say a day, without the ever. No, no, Orlando, men are April 
when they woo, December when they wed: maids are May when 
they are maids, but the sky changes when they are wives. 1 will be 
more jealous of thee than a Barbary cock-pigeon over his hen; more 
clamorous than a parrot against rain; more new-fangled than an 
ape; more giddy in my desires than a monkey: I will weep for 
nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and I will do that when you 
are disposed to be merry; I will laugh like a hyen, and that when 
thou art inclined to sleep. 



Let me be your servant; 
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty. 
For in my youth I never did apply 
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood ; 
Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo 
The means of weakness and debility; 
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter. 
Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you: 
ril do the service of a younger man 
In all your business of necessities. 



i6 

Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. 



Sir, I am a true laborer; I earn that I eat, get that I wear; owe 
no man hate, envy no man's happiness; glad of other men's good, 
content with my harm: and the greatest of my pride is to see my 
ewes graze, and my lambs suck. 



A FOOL S LIBERTY OF SPEECH. 

I must have liberty 

Withal, as large a charter as the wind 

To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have : 

And they that are most galled with my folly, 

They most must laugh: And why, sir, must they so ? 

The why is plain as way to parish church. 



Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! unto the green holly: 
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly; 
Then, heigh, ho, the holly ! 
This life is most jolly. 

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky. 
That dost not bite so nigh 

As benefits forgot: 
Though thou the waters warp, 
The sting is not so sharp 

As friend remember d not. 
Heigh, ho ! sing, heigh, ho ! &c. 



For I the ballad will repeat 
Which men full true shall find ; 

For your marriage comes by destiny. 
Your cuckoo sings by kind. 



What angel shall 
Bless this unworthy husband ? he cannot thrive, 
Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to hear, 
And loves to grant, reprieve him from the wrath 
Of greater justice. 



womedi| of 



While now her bending neck she plies 

Backward to meet the burning kiss, 

Then with an easy cruelty denies, 

Yet wishes you would snatch, not ask the bliss. 

Francis. 



Dinner Favors. 

We keep in stock and make to order the richest Din* 
ner Favors produced in the city. Our stock is the 
largest and most varied, and in this department of our 
business we are acknowledged to be at the head. Sam- 
ples on exhibition. Satin and silk hand-painted favors 
in great variety, rich, elaborate and elegant. 



In the infinite meadows of heaven 

Blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the Angels. 

Longfellow. 



doniFilg of CJFForx. 



A hungry, lean-fac'd villain, 

A mere anatomy, a mountebank, 

A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller; 

A needy, hollow ey'd, sharp-looking wretch, 

A living dead man : this pernicious slave. 

Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer; 

And, gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse. 

And with no face, as 'twere, outfacing me, 

Cries out, I was possess'd. 



Patience unmov'd, no marvel though she pause; 

They can be meek, that have no other cause. 

A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity, 

We bid be quiet when we hear it cry; 

But were we burden'd with like weight of pain. 

As much, or more, we should ourselves complain. 



For slander lives upon succession ; 

For ever housed, when it once gets possession. 



The venom clamors of a jealous woman 

Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. 

It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing: 

And thereof comes it that his head is light. 

Thou say'st, his meat was sauced with thy upbraidings: 

Unquiet meals make ill digestions, 

Thereof the raging fire of fever bred; 

And what's a fever but a fit of madness ? 

Thou say'st, his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls; 

Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue, 

But moody and dull melancholy 

(Kinsman to grim and comfortless despair); 

And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop 

Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life ? 



20 



I see, the jewel, best enamelled, 
Will lose his beauty; and though gold 'bides still, 
That others touch, yet often touching will 
Wear gold: and so no man, that hath a name. 
But falsehood and corruption doth it shame. 



I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still ; 
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his will. 
He is deformed, crooked, old, and sere, 
Ill-faced, worse -bodied, shapeless everywhere; 
Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind; 
Stigmatical in making, worse in mind. 



There's nothing, situate under heaven's eye. 
But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, in sky, 
The beasts, the fishes, and the winged fowls. 
Are their males' subject, and at their controls : 
Men, more divine, the masters of all these. 
Lords of the wide world, the wild wat'ry seas. 
Indued with intellectual sense and souls, 
Of more pre-eminence than fish and fowls, 
Are masters to their females, and their lords: 
Then let your will attend on their accords. 



Time is a very bankrupt, and owes more than he's worth, to season. 

Nay, he's a thief too: Have you not heard men say. 

That time comes stealing on by night and day ? 

If he be in debt, and theft, and a sergeant in the way, 

Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day ? 



There's not a man I meet but doth salute me 
As if I were their well-acquainted friend; 
And every one doth call me by my name. 
Some tender money to me, some invite me ; 
Some give me thanks for kindnesses; 
Some offer me commodities to buy: 
Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop, 
And shew'd me silks that he had bought for me. 
And, therewithal, took measure of my body. 



Frisking light in frolic measures: 
Now pursuing, now retreating. 

Now in circling troops they meet; 
To brisk notes in cadence beating, 

Glance their many twinkling feet. 



Gray. 



Qerman Favors. ' 

The largest variety of rich and novel designs in German 
Favors can be seen at our establishment. We make a 
specialty of keeping in stock or making to order ap- 
propriate and rich favors. 



"Xlie German '' Invitations. 

Young ladies desiring Invitations for Germans are invi- 
ted to our establishment. We make the price VERY 
LOW. 



A sudden thought strikes me, 
Let us swear an eternal friendship. 

Canning. 



EobF's Eabop's EosK 



When daisies pied, and violets blue, 
And lady-smocks all silver-white, 

And Cuckoo-buds of yellow hue, 
Do paint the meadows with delight, 

The cuckoo then, on every tree, 

Mocks married men , for thus sings he , 
Cuckoo; 

Cuckoo, cuckoo, — O word of fear, 

Unpleasing to a married ear! 

When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, 
And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, 

When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws, 
And maidens bleach their summer smocks, 

The cuckoo then, on every tree. 

Mocks married men, for thus sings he, 
Cuckoo; 

Cuckoo, cuckoo, — O word of fear, 

Unpleasing to a married ear! 



From women's eyes this doctrine I derive; 
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire ; 
They are the books, the arts, the academies 
That show, contain, and nourish all the world; 
Else, none at all in aught proves excellent. 



What ? I ! I love ! I sue ! I seek a wife ! 
A woman, that is like a German clock, 
Still a repairing; ever out of frame; 
And never going aright, being a watch, 
But being watch'd that it may still go right ? 



24 



This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeon's peas; 
And utters it again, when God doth please: 
lie is wit's pedlar, and retails his wares 
At wakes, and wassels, meetings, markets, fairs; 
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know, 
Have not the grace to grace it with such show. 
This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve; 
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve: 
He can carve too, and lisp. Why, this is he 
That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy; 
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice, 
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice 

In honorable terms; nay, he can sing. 

* * * * * * :* 

The ladies call him sweet, 
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet. 
This is the flower that smiles on every one 
To show his teeth as white as whale his bone- 
And consciences that will not die in debt. 
Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet. 



A merrier man. 
Within the limit of becoming mirth, 
I never spent an hour's talk withal: 
His eye begets occasion for his wit; 
For every object that the one doth catch. 
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest; 
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor) 
Delivers in such apt and gracious words. 
That aged ears play truant at his tales, 
And younger hearings are quite ravished ; 
So sweet and voluble is his discourse. 



But love, first learned in a lady's eyes, 
Lives not alone immured in the brain ; 
But with the motion of all elements. 
Courses as swift as thought in every power; 
And gives to every power a double power, 
Above their functions and their offices. 
It adds a precious seeing to the eye; 
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind. 



JVieasure for 



M 



©asure* 



There's a strange something, which without a brain 
Fools feel, and which e'en wise men can't explain, 
Planted in man, to bind him to that earth, 
In dearest ties, from whence he drew his birth. 

Churchill. 



Our Customers, 

Our patrons are the Elite, and we spare no pains to 
please them. "We sometimes make mistakes," and, 
when doing so, we correct same most cheerfully, and 
no customer is expected to take an order unless it is 
satisfactory. 



Like will to like; each creature loves his kind, 
Chaste words proceed still from a bashful mind. 

Herrick. 



JKFHsnrF fop JKfhsupf. 



O, but man, proud man ! 
Drest in a little brief authority ; 
Most ignorant of what he's most assured, 
His glassy essence, — like an angry ape. 
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, 
As make the angels weep: who, with our spleens, 
Would all themselves laugh mortal. 



Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in them; 
But, in the less, foul profanation. 
That in the captain's but a choleric word. 
Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. 



O, it is excellent 
To have a giant's strength; but it is tyrannous 
To use it like a giant. 
Could great men thunder, 

As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, 
For every pelting, petty officer, 

Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing but thunder. 
Merciful heaven ! 



If thou art rich, thou art poor; 
For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows, 
Thy bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey. 
And death unloads thee. 



Darest thou die ? 
The sense of death is most in apprehension ; 
And the poor beetle, that we tread upon. 
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great 
As when a giant dies. 



28 



Thou hast nor youth, nor age; 
But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep, 
Dreaming on both : for all thy blessed youth 
Becomes as aged, and doth beg the alms 
Of palsied eld; and when thou art old, and rich. 
Thou hast neither heat, affection, limb, nor beauty, 
To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in this. 
That bears the name of life ? Yet in this life 
Lie hid more thousand deaths; yet death we fear, 
That makes these odds all even. 



Go to Lord An gel o. 

And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, 

Men give like gods; but when they weep and kneel, 

All their petition are as freely theirs 

As they themselves would owe them. 



Let but your honor know 
(Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue) 
That, in the working of your own affections. 
Had time cohered with place, or place with wishing, 
Or that the resolute acting of your blood 
Could have attain'd the effect of your own purpose. 
Whether you had not sometime in your life 
Err'd in this point which now you censure him, 
And puU'd the law upon you. 



'Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, 

Another thing to fall. I not deny, 

The jury, passing on the prisoner's life, 

May, in the sworn twelve, have a thief or two 

Guiltier than him they try. What's open made to justice. 

That justice seizes. Wha't know the laws. 

That thieves do pass on thieves? 'Tis very pregnant, 

The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it, 

Because we see it ; but what we do not see. 

We tread upon, and never think of it. 



Our doubts are traitors, 
And make us lose the good we oft might win, 
By fearing to attempt. 



Tfie Merchant 
of V entce. 



A generous friendship no cold medium knows, 
Burns with one love, with one resentment glows; 
One should our interests and our passions be, 
My friend must hate the man that injures me. 

Pope, 



Coats of Arms Painted. 

We make a specialty of looking up Coats-of-Arms, and 
our report can be relied upon. We emblazon same in 
their proper colors for framing; painting same on satin, 
silk or other materials, for ornamentation, AT VERY 
REASONABLE PRICES. 



Old houses mended. 

Cost little less than new before they're ended. 

CoLLF.Y Gibber. 



^|f pprrlflnt of tpnitF. 



I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano; 
A stage, where every man must play a part. 



Let me play the Fool: 
With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; 
And let my liver rather heat with wine, 
Than my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
Why should a man, whose blood is warm within, 
bit like his grandsire cut in alabaster ? 
Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the jaundice 
By being peevish. 



There are a sort of men, whose visages 
Do cream and mantle, like a standing pond; 
And do a wilful stillness entertain, 
With purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit; 
As who should say, /am Sir Oracle, 
And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark! 
O, my Antonio, I do know of these. 
That therefore only are reputed wise, 
For saying nothing. 

You have too much respect upon the world ; 
They lose it, that do buy it with much care.' 



Mark you this, Bassanio, 
The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. 
An evil soul, producing holy witness, 
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek; 
A goodly apple rotten at the heart. 
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath ! 



32 



Moneys is your suit. 
What should I say to you ? Should I not say, 
Hath a dog money? is it possible, 
A cur can lend three thousand dtuats? Or 
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key, 
With 'bated breath, and whispering humbleness, 
Say this, — 

Fair sir, you spit on me on Wednesday last; 
You spurned me such a day; another time 
You caird me — dog; and for these courtesies 
ni lend you thus much moneys. 



How many cowards, whose liearts are all as false 
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
The beards of Hercules, and frowning Mars; 
Who, inward search'd, have livers white as milk? 



How far that little candle throws its beams ! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world. 



How sweet the moonlight sleeps upon this bank ! 
Here will we sit, and let the sounds of music 
Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night, 
Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
Sit, Jessica; look, how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold ; 
There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st 
But in his motion like an angel sings, 
Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins: 
Such harmony is in immortal souls; 
But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it. 



For herein fortune shows herself more kind 
Than is her custom: it is still her use, 
To let the wretched man outlive his wealth. 
To view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow, 
An age of poverty. 



The quality of mercy is not strain'd; 
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath. It is twice bless'd; 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes: 
Tis mightiest in the mightiest. It becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown: 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power. 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the dread and fear of kings; 
But mercy is above the scepter'd sway, 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
It is an attribute to God himself; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 
When mercy seasons justice. 



For who shall go about 
To cozen fortune, and be honorable 
Without the stamp of merit ! Let none presume 
To wear an undeserved dignity, 
O, that estates, degrees, and offices, 
Were not derived corruptly ! and that clear honor 
Were purchased by the merit of the wearer ! 
How many then should cover, that stand bare 
How many be commanded, that command 



I 



Nature hath framed strange fellows in her time: 

Some that will evermore peep through their eyes. 

And laugh, like parrots, at a bag-piper; 

And other of such vinegar aspect, 

That they'll not show their teeth in way of smile, 

Though Nestor swear the jest be laughable. 



Thus ornament is but the guiled shore 

To a most dangerous sea; a beauteous scarf 

Veilmg an Indian beauty; in a word, 

The seeming truth whicli cunning times put on 

To entrap the wises*^ 



34 



Here are sever'd lips, 
Parted with sugar breath; so sweet a bar 
Should sunder such sweet friends. Here in her hairs 
The painter plays the spider; and hath woven 
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of men, 
Faster than gnats in cobwebs. But her eyes, — 
How could he see to do them ? having made one, 
Methinks, it should have power to steal both his, 
And leave itself unfurnish'd. 



The reason is, your spirits are attentive : 
For do but note a wild and wonton herd. 
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts, 
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neighing loud, 
Which is the hot condition of their blood; 
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound, 
Or any air of music touch their ears, 
You shall perceive them make a mutual stand, 
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest gaze, 
By the sweet power of music: Therefore the poet 
Did feign, that Orpheus drew trees, stones, and floods; 
Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of rage, 
But music for the time doth change his nature: 
The man that hath no music in himself, 
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, 
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils; 
The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 
And his affections dark as Erebus: 
Let no such man hz trusted. — Mark the music. 



You that choose not by the view. 
Chance as fair, and choose as true ! 
Since this fortune falls to you, 
Be content, and seek no new. 
If you be well pleased with this. 
And hold your fortune for your bliss. 
Turn you where your lady is. 
And claim her with a loving kiss, 



About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
That she did give me; whose posy was 
For all the world like cutler's poetry 
Upon a knife, Love me, and leave me not. 



JVierrij ^Ttves 

of 



Death finds us 'mid our play things — snatches us, 
As a cross nurse might do a wayward child , 
From all our toys and baubles. His rough call 
Unlooses all our favorite ties on earth; 
And well if they are such as may be answer'd 
In yonder world, where all is judged of truly. 

Old Play. 



Scliool Certificates. 

Certificates of Graduation illuminated, or in black, plain, 
or elaborate, on parchment or silk, after designs fur- 
nished, or designs made to suit the applicants. In this 
department we excel. 



The happy have whole days, and those they choose; 
The unhappy have but hours, and those they lose. 

COLLEY. 



Pfffs Mm of ^inilsoF. 



Love like a shado2V Jiies, when substance love pursues; 
Pursuing that thatfiies^ and flying what pursues. 



We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do. 
Wives may be merry, and yet honest too: 
We do not act, that often jest and laugh; 
'Tis old but true, Still swine eat all the draff. 



Pent. I see, I cannot get thy father's love; 
Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan. 

Anne. Alas ! how then ? 

Pent. Why, thou must be thyself. 
He doth object, I am too great of birth; 
And that, my state being gall'd with my expense, 
I seek to heal it only by his wealth: 
Besides these, other bars he lays before me, — 
My riots past, my wild societies; 
And tells me, 'tis a thing impossible 
I should love thee, but as a property. 

Anne. May be, he tells you true. 

Pent. No, Heaven so speed me in my time to come! 
Albeit, I will confess, thy father's wealth 
Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne; 
Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value 
Than stamps in gold, or sums in sealed bags; 
And 'tis the very riches of thyself 
That now 1 aim at. 

Anne. Gentle master Fenton, 
Yet seek my father's love: still seek it, sir: 
If opportunity and humblest suit 
Cannot attain it, why then — Hark you hither. 



38 



To shallow rivers, to whose falls 
Melodious birds sing madrigals; 
There will we make our peds of roses, 
And a thousand fragrant posies. 



Hony soil qui mal y pense, write , 
In emerald tufts, flowers, purple, blue, and white, 
Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery, 
Buckled below fair knighthood's bending knee: 
Fairies use flowers for their charactery. 



Ask me no reason why I love you; for though love use reason 
for his physician, he admits him not for his .counsellor: You are noi 
young, no more am I; go to then, there's sympathy: You are merry, 
so am I; Ha, ha! then there's more sympathy: You love sack, and 
so do I; would you desire better sympathy ? Let it suflice thee, 
mistress Page, (at the least, if the love of a soldier can suffice), that 
I love thee. I will not say, pity me, 'tis not a soldier-like phrase; 
but I say, love me. By me, 

^ Thine own true knight 

By day or night. 
Or any kind of light, 
With all his might, 
For thee to fight, JOHN FALSTAFF. 



Hold, sirrah, bear you these letters tightly; 

Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. — 

Rogues, hence, avaunt! vanish like hail-stones, go; 

Trudge, plod, away, o' the hoof; seek shelter, pack ! 

Falstaff will learn the humor of this age, 

French thrift, you rogues; myself, and skirted page. 



The offence is holy that she hath committed: 

And this deceit loses the name of craft, 

■Of disobedience, or unduteous title; 

Since therein she doth evitate and shun 

A thousand irreligious cursed hours. 

Which forced marriage would have brought upon her. 



a 

jVttdstttntitQr^ 



Enlarge my life with multitude of days, 
In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays, 
Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know 
That life protracted is protracted woe. 

. Dr. lOHNSON. 



Scliool Printing;. 



The necessity for a printing establishment easy of ac- 
cess to which A LADY CAN APPLY, and have her 
wishes for fine and tasty work executed AT LOW 
PRICES, induced us to establish a departnnent for 
that special purpose, and very many of the attractive 
school circulars are from our establishment. 

You are invited with your scholars to visit our work- 
rooms for pleasure and instruction. 



All human things are subject to decay, 

And when fate summons, monarchs must obey. 

Dryden. 



3IEi!isiiniinFF']0ig|fsBFFani. 



To you your father should be as a god ; 

One that composed your beauties: yea, and one 

To whom you, are but as a form in wax, 

By him imprinted, and within his power 

To leave the figure, or disfigure it. 

For aught that ever I could read, 
Could ever hear by tale or history. 
The course of true love never did run smooth: 
But, either it was different in blood; 
Or else misgraffed, in i-cspect of years; 
Or else it stood upon the choice of friends: 
Or, if there were a sympathy in choice. 
War, death, or sickness did lay siege to it; 
Making it momentany as a sound, 
vSwift as a shadow, short as any dream. 



I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow; 

By his best arrow with the golden head ; 

By the simplicity of Venus' doves; 

By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves; 

And by that fire which burn'd the Carthage queen, 

When the false Trojan under sail was seen ; 

By all the vows that ever men have broke. 

In number more than ever woman spoke; — 

In that same place thou hast appointed me. 

To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. 



I know a bank where the wild thyme blows. 
Where ox-lips and the nodding violet grows 
Quite over -canopied with lush woodbine, 
With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine: 
There sleeps Titania, some time of the night, 
Lull'd in these flowers with dances and delight. 



42 



Love looks not w'lili the eyes, but with the mind: 
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind : 
Nor hath Love's mind of any judojment taste; 
Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste: 
And therefore is Love said to be a child. 
Because in choice he is so oft beguiled. 
As waggish boys in game themselves forswear, 
So the boy Love is perjured everywhere. 



So we grew together. 
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted ; 
But yet a union in partition, 
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem: 
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart; 
Two of the first, like coats in heraldry, 
Due but to one, and crowned with one crest. 



The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve. 



We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top, 
And mark the musical confusion 
Of hounds and echo in conjunction. 

I/ip. I was with Hercules, and Cadmus, once, 
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear 
With hounds of Sparta: never did I hear 
Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves, 
The skies, the fountains, every region near 
Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard 
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder. 



Night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast. 

And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; 

At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there, 

Troop home to churchyards. 



cl(?otit ATotftmq 



So runs my dream; but what am I ? 
An infant crying in the night: 
An infant crying for the light, 

And with no language but a cry. 



Tennyson. 



Wedding Certificates. 



ILLUMINATED WEDDING CERTIFICATES are one of 
our specialties in which we claim to excel. We have 
several designs on exhibition illuminated on parchment 
which will last forever. We design and paint to order 
for any number of signatures, and in after years they 
will be very pleasing mementoes. 



There St. John mingles with my friendly bowl 
The feast of reason and the flow of soul. 

Pope. 



3IZiir| j£ho jStboQ]^ 2Qol^|ing. 



Friendship is constant in all other things, 

Save in the office and affairs of love: 

Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues; 

Let every eye negotiate for itself, 

And trust no agent: for beauty is a witch, 

Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. 



It is the witness still of excellency, 

To put a strange face on his own perfection. 



No part of it is mine. 
This shame derives itself from unknoivti loins ? 
But mine, and mine I loved, and mine I praised. 
And mine that I was proud on; mine so much. 
That I myself was to myself not mine, 
Valuing of her; why, she— O, she is fallen 
Into a pit of ink ! that the wide sea 
Haih drops too few to wash her clean again. 



For it so falls out, 
That what we have we prize not to the worth, 
Whiles we enjoy it ; but being lack'd and lost, 
Why, then we rack the value; then we find 
The virtue, that possession would not show us 
Whiles it was ours. 



Which is the villain ? Let me see his eyes; 
That when I note another man like him, 
I may avoid him. 



40 



O god of love ! I know he doth deserve 
As much as may be yielded to a man: 
But nature never framed a woman's heart 
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice; 
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, 
Misprising what they look on; and her wit 
Values itself so highly, that to her 
All matter else seems weak: she cannot love, 
Nor take no shape nor project of affection, 
She is so self-endear'd. 



No, no; 'lis all men's office to speak patience 

To those that wring under the load of sorrow: 

But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency, 

To be so moral , when he shall endure 

The like himself: therefore give me no counsel. 

My griefs cry louder than adverli>ement. 

Ant. Therein do men from children nothing differ. 

Leon. I pray thee; peace; I will be flesh and blood ^ 
For there was never yet philosopher. 
That could endure the toothache patiently; 
However they have writ the style of gods, 
And made a pish at chance and sufferance. 



Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more, 

Men were deceivers ever ; 
One foot in sea, and one on shore. 
To one thing constant never: 
Then sigh not so, 
But let them go, " 
And be you blythe and bonny; 
Converting all your sounds of woe 
Into, hey nonny, nonny. 



Done to death by slanderous tongues, 

Was the hero that here lies: 
Death, in guerdon of her wrongs. 
Gives her fame, which never dies: 
So the life that died with shame, 
Lives in death with glorious fame. 
Hang thou there upon the tomb, 
Praising her when I am dumb. 



i "^ lamina 
of tfie ^firew^ 



Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 

The bridal of the earth and sky. 
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night; 

For thou must die. 

George Herbert, 



Conmiencenieiit Annotince- 
meiits. 

School and College Announcements engraved and print- 
ed from steel and copper-plate, or letter-press 'type), 
in an expensive and recherche style, or neat, at low 
cost, are one of our leading features. 

This entire book is the work of our own establish- 
ment, and shows the class of work we produce. 



Errors, like straws upon the surface flow; 

He who would search for pearls, must dive below. 

Dryden. 



Naming of i\f %\vf\a. 



THE wife's duty TO HER HUSBAND. 



Fie, fie ! unknit that threatening unkind brow; 

And dart not scornful glances from those eyes, 

To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor: 

It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads; 

Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair buds, 

And in no sense is meet or amiable. 

A woman moved, is like a fountain troubled. 

Muddy, ill seeming, thick, bereft of beauty; 

And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty 

Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it. 

Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, 

Thy head, thy sovereign; one that cares for thee, 

And for ihy maintenance: commits his body 

To painful labor, both by sea and land ; 

To watch the night in storms, the day in cold. 

While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe; 

And craves no other tribute at thy hands. 

Bat love, fair looks, and true obedience; — 

Too little payments for so great a debt. 

Such duty as the subject owes the prince. 

Even such, a woman oweth-to her husband: 

And, when slie's froward, peevish, sullen, sour, 

And not obedient to his honest will. 

What is she, but a foul contending rebel, 

And graceless traitor to her loving lord ? 

I am ashamed, that women are so simple 

To offer war, where they should kneel for peace ; 

Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway, 

When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. 

Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth, 

Unapt to toil, and trouble in the world ; 

But that our soft conditions and our hearts, 

Should well agree with our external parts? 



Dost thou love pictures ! we will fetch thee straight 

Adonis painted by a running brook: 

And Cytherea all in sedges hid; 

Which seem to move and wanton with her breath, 

Even as the waving sedges play with wind. 



For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich; 

And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds, 

To honor peereth in the meanest habit. 

What ! is the jay more precious than the lark, 

Because his feathers are more beautiful ? 

Or is the adder better than the eel, 

Because his painted skin contents the eye ? 

O, no, good Kate; neither art thou the worse 

For this poor furniture and mean array. 



Think you, a little din can daunt mme ears? 

Have I not in my time heard lions roar ? 

Have I not heard the sea, puff 'd up with winds, 

Rage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat; 

Have I not heard great ordnance in the field, 

And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies; 

Have I not in a pitched battle heard 

Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpets' clang ? 

And do you tell me of a woman's tongue; 

That gives not half so great a blow to the ear, 

As will a chestnut in a farmer's fire ? 



Be patient, gentlemen, I choose her for myself; 
If she and I be pleased, what's that to you ? 
'Tis bargain 'd 'twixt us twain, being alone, 
That she shall still be curst in company. 
I tell you, 'tis incredible to believe 
How much she loves me: O, the kindest Kate !- 
She hung upon my neck; and kiss on kiss 
She vied so fast, protesting oath on oath, 
That in a tvvink she won me to her love. 
O, you are novices ! 'tis a world to see, 
How tame, when men and women are alone, 
A meacock wretch can make the curstest shrew. 



HTfte JPem|iQst 



♦ 



To contemplation's sober eye. 

Such is the race of man. 
And they that creep, and they that fly. 

Shall end where they began. 

Gay, 



Balls and Parties. 

Engraved Invitations and Orders of Dancing for public 
or private bails and parties, in the most approved 
style, is a branch of our business in which we have 
met with grand success. Novelty, elegance and dis- 
patch we guarantee, because we execute our own work. 
The elegant invitations and orders of dance for 
PALESTINE COMMANDERY last season were from 
our House. 



While timorous knowledge stands considering, 
Andacious ignorance hath done the deed. 

Daniel. 



©|f ^FinjFsi 



Full many a lady 
I have eyed with best regard; and many a time 
The harmony of their tongues hath into bondage 
Brought my too diligent ear: for several virtues 
Have I liked several women: never any 
Wiih so full soul, but some defect in her 
Did quarrel with the noblest grace she owed, 
And put it to the foil: but you, O you, 
So perfect and so peerless, are created 
Of every creature's best. 

^Iira. I do not know 

One of my sex; no woman's face remember, 
Save, from my glass, mine own ; nor have I seen 
More that I may call men, than you, good friend. 
And my dear father; how features are abroad, 
I am skill-less of : but, by my modesty 
(The jewel in my dower), I would not wish 
Any companion in the world but you; 
Nor can imagination form a shape, 
Besides yourself, to like of. But I prattle 
Something too wildly, and my father's precepts 
Therein forget. 

^'^' I am, in my condition, 

A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king— 



Hear my soul speak: 
Ihe very instant that I saw you, did 
My heart fly to your service; there resides. 
To make me slave to it; and, for your sake, 
Am I this patient log-man. 

^f^^(i- Do you love me ? 

Fer. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound, 
-A.nd crown what I profess with kind event, 



54 



If I speak true; if hollowly, invert 
What best is boded me, to mischief ! I, 
Beyond all limit of what else i' the world, 
Do love, prize, honor you. 

Mir a. I am a fool, 

To weep at what I am glad of. 



My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. 
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel. 
The wjeck of all my friends, or this man's threats, 
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, 
Might I but through my prison once a day 
Behold this maid: all corners else o' the earth 
Let liberty make use of ; space enough 
Have I in such a rison. 



Fer. Wherefore weep you? 

Mira. At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer 
What I desire to give; and much less take. 
What I shall die to want. But this is trifling; 
And all the more it seeks to hide itself, 
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning, 
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! 
I am your wife, if you will marry me; 
If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow 
You may deny me; but I'll be your servant, 
Whether you will or no. 

Fer. My mistress, dearest, 

And I thus humble ever. 

Mira. My husband then ? 

Fer. Ay, with a heart as willing 
As bondage e'er of freedom: here's my hand. 

Mira. And mine, with my heart in 't; and now farewell 
Till half an hour hence. 

Fer. A thousand thousand ! 



His tears run down his beard, like winter's drops 
From eaves of reeds. 



Twefftft Afigfti 



A little rule, a little sway, 
A sunbeam in a winter's day, 
Is all the proud and mighty have 
Between the cradle and the grave. 

Dyer. 



Music for Oaiiciiis^. 



As a favor to our customers, Mr. P. A. Herfort, Mu- 
sical Director, has his head-quarters at our place of 
business. Any combination of instruments can be en- 
gaged. Messrs. Dempsey & Carroll have no personal 
interest in the matter save ensuring their customers, 
if they wish it, superior music; and we recommend 
Mr. Herfort because all who have engaged him have, 
been eminently satisfied. 



My God, my father, and my friend. 
Do not forsake me at my end ! 

Roscommon. 



WMi^ Pgp. 



O/i. Why, what would you ? 

Vw. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, 
And call upon my soul within the house; 
Write loyal cantons of contemned love, 
And sing them loud even in the dead of night 
Holla your name to the reverberate hills, 
And make the babbling gossip of the air 
Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest 
Between the elements of air and earth, 
But you should pity me. 



Too old, by heaven : let still the woman take 
An elder than herself; so wears she to him, 
So sways she level in her husband's heart. 
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves, 
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm, 
More longing, wavering, sooner lost and worn 
Than women's are. 



If music be the food of love, play on, 
Give me excess of it ; that, surfeiting, 
The appetite may sicken, and so die. 
That strain again; it had a dying fall: 
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, 
That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
Stealing, and giving odor. 



Come hither, boy: if ever thou shalt love. 
In the sweet pangs of it remember me: 
For, such as I am, all true lovers are; 
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else. 
Save, in the constant image of the creature 
That is beloved. 



58 



This fellow's wise enough to play the fool; 

And, to do that well, craves a kind of wit: 

He must obsene their mood on whom he iests, 

The quality of persons, and the time; 

Not like the haggard, check at every feather 

That comes before his eye. This is a practice. 

As full of labor as a wise man's art: 

For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit: 

But wise men, folly-fallen, quite taint their wit. 



Cesario, by the roses of the spring. 
By maidhood, honor, truth, and every thing, 
I love thee so, that, maugre all thy pride, 
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide. 
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, 
For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause; 
But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter: 
Love sought is good, but given unsought is better. 



Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, 
^^^lerein the pregnant enemy does much. 
How easy is it for the proper-false 
In women's waxen hearts to set their forms ! 
Alas, our frailty is the cause, not we; 
For, such as we are made of, such we be. 



How will she love, when the rich golden shaft 
Hath kiU'd the flock of all affections else 
That live in her ! when liver, brain and heart. 
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied and fill'd 
(Her sweet perfections) with one self king. 



She never told her love. 

But let concealment, like a worm i' the bud, 

Feed on her damask cheek; she pin"d in thought: 

And, with a green and yellow melancholy, 

She sat like patience on a monument, 

Smiling at grief. 



HTfte TTwo 
3etitretnen of 



V 



erona* 



The mother to her daughter spake, 
Daughter, said she, arise: 

Thy daughter to her daughter take 
Whose daughter's daughter cries. 



Riley. 



Cards of Dances. 

We paint and illuminate in very elaborate or plain style, 
cards containing the Orders of Dance. They are hung 
upon the wall, under a side gas bracket, suspended by 
a ribbon; are very handsome, in fashion, and are used 
in place of dancing programmes. 



Who thinks that fortune cannot change her mind, 
Prepares a dreadful jest for all mankind. 

Pope. 



THE 



t^lDo (jFuHpraFn of ^Frona. 



Did' St thou but know the inly touch of love; 
Thou wouldst as soon go kindle fire with snow, 
As seek to quench the fire of love with words. 

Liic. I do not seek to quench your love's hot fire; 
But qualify the fire's extreme rage, 
Lest It should burn above the bounds of reason. 

Jul. The more thou damm'st it up, the more it bums ; 
The current, that with gentle murmur glides. 
Thou know'st, being stopp'd, impatiently doth rage; 
But when his fair course is not hinder'd. 
He m.akes sweet music with the enamell'd stones, 
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
He overtakelh in his pilgrimage; 
And so by many winding nooks he strays, 
With willing sport, to the wide ocean. 
Then let me go, and hinder not my course; 
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream, 
And make a pastime of each weary step, 
Till the last step have brought me to my love; 
And there Til rest, as, after much turmoil, 
A blessed soul doth in Elysium. 



His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; 
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; 
His tears pure messengers sent from his heart; 
His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth. 



His years but young, but his experience old; 
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe; 
And, in a word (for far behind his worth 
Come all the praises that I now bestow), 
He is complete in feature, and in mind, 
With all good grace to grace a gentleman. 



62 



Maids, in modesty, say No, to that 
WTiich they would have the profferer construe. Ay 
Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love, 
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse, 
And presently, all humbled, kiss the rod ! 



He cannot be a perfect man, 
Not being tried and tutor'd in the world: 
Experience is by industry achieved, 
And perfected by the swift course of time. 



Say, that upon the altar of her beauty 

You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart: 

Write till your ink be dry; and with your tears 

Moist it again, and frame some feeling line. 

That may discover such integrity: — 

For Orpheus' lute was strung with poets' sinews; 

Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones, 

Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans 

Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. 



O, gentle Porteus, Love's a mighty lord. 

And hath so humbled me, as, I confess, 

There is no woe to his correction, 

Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth I 

Now, no discourse, except it be of love; 

Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep. 

Upon the very naked name of love. 



A woman sometimes scorns what best contents her: 

Send her another; never give her o'er; 

For scorn at first makes after-love the more. 

If she do frown, 'tis not in hate of you. 

But rather to beget more love in you: 

If she do chide, 'tis not to have you gone; 

For why, the fools are mad, if left alone. 

Take no repulse, whatever she doth say; 

For, get you g07ie, she doth not mean away; 

Flatter, and praise, commend, extol their graces; 

Though ne"er so black, say they have angels' faces. 

That ?nan that hath a tongue, I say, is tto tnan^ 

If with his tongue he cannot win a woman. 



So the struck eagle 

View'd his own feather on the fatal dart, 
And wing'd the shaft that quivered in his heart ; 
Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel 
He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel. 

Byron. 



Stationery Souvenir Boxes. 

A very acceptable and useful present is a handsome 
box of Paper, embellished with arms, crest, monogram, 
or fac-simile die. We have some very rich plush boxes, 
and make to order any style of box or case to suit the 
fancy. 



Of manners gentle, of affections mild ; 
In wit, a man; simplicity, a child. 

Pope. 



?^^F Mtor's Wak 



We were, fair queen, 
Two lads, that thought there was no more behind, 
But such a day to-morrow as to-day, 
And to be boy eternal. 

We were as twinn'd lambs, that did frisk i' the sun, 
And bleat the one at the other: what we changed, 
Was innocence for innocence ; we knew not 
The doctrine of ill- doing, no, nor dream'd 
That any did. Had we pursued that life, 
And our weak spirits never, higher rear'd 
With stronger blood, we should have answer'd heaven 
Boldly, iV<?/ Guilty; the imposition clear'd. 
Hereditary ours. 



I have heard (but not believed) the spirits of the dead 
May walk again : if such thing be , thy mother 
Appear 'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream 
So like a waking. 



Reverend sirs, 
For you there's rosemary, and rue; these keep 
Seeming, and savor, all the winter long; 
Grace, and remembrance, be to you both, 
And welcome to our shearing ! 



He says, he loves my daughter: 
I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon 
Upon the water as he'll stand, and read, 
As 't were, my daughter's eyes; and, to be plain, 
I think, there is not half a kiss to choose. 
Who loves another best. 



66 



I was not much afeard: for once, or twice, 
I was about to speak; and tell him plainly, 
The selfsame sun, that shines upon his court, 
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but 
Looks on alike. 



Prosperity 's the very bond of love ; 

Whose fresh complexion and whose heart together 

Affliction alters. 



A WIDOWS COMPARED TO A TURTLE. 

I, an old turtle, 

Will wing me to some wither'd bough ; and there 
My mate, that's never to be found again, 
Lament till I am lost. 



Is whispering nothing ? 
Is leaning cheek to cheek ? is meeting noses ? 
Kissing with inside lip ? stopping the career 
Of laughter with a sigh (a note infallible 
Of breaking honesty) ? horsing foot on foot ? 
Skulking in corners ? wishing clocks more swift ? 
Hours, minutes ? noon, midnight ? and all eyes blind 
With the pin and web, but theirs, theirs only. 
That would unseen be wicked ? is this nothing ? 
Why, then the world, and all that's in 't, is nothing; 
The covering sky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; 
My wife is nothing ; nor nothing have these nothings, 
If this be nothing. 



One good deed, dying tongueless, 
Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that. 
Our praises are our wages: You may ride us, 
With one soft kiss, a thousand furlongs, ere 
With spur we heat an acre. 



A thousand knees, 
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting. 
Upon a barren mountain, and still winter 
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods 
To look that way thou wert. 



Kin^ lofiit. 



Wishes, like painted landscapes, best delight. 
Whilst distance recommends them to the sight; 
Plac'd far off, they beautiful appear: 
But show their coarse and nauseous colors, near. 

Dr. Yalden. 



Garden Party Invitations. 
Qrand Union Hotel^ 
Saratog^a Springes. 

Your attention is called to the Garden Party Invitations 
executed by us. They are unquestionably the most 
elegant ever produced. For the last four years Mr. 
Henry Clair, of the Grand Union, has honored us with 
his orders, and each year the work has excelled in 
beauty. YOUR ORDERS ARE SOLICITED. 



Sure as night follows day, 
Death treads in pleasure's footsteps round the world, 
When pleasure treads the paths which reason shuns. 

Dr. Young. 



Jcing j[ol|n. 



How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds, 

Makes ill deeds done ! Hadst not thou been by, 

A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd. 

Quoted, and sign'd, to do a deed of shame, 

This murder had not come into my mind. 

Hadst thou but shook thy head, or made a pause. 

When I spake darkly what I proposed; 

Or turn'd an eye of doubt upon my face. 

As bid me tell my tale in express words; 

Deep shame hath struck me dumb, made me break off, 

And those thy fears might have wrought fears in me. 



Trust not those cunning waters of his eyes, 
For villany is not without much rheum ; 
And he, long traded in it, makes it seem 
Like rivers of remorse and innocency. 



He that stands upon a slippery place, 
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up. 



Old men and beldams, in the streets 

Do prophesy upon it dangerously : 

Young Arthur's death in common in their mouths: 

And when they talk of him they shake their heads, 

And whisper one another in the ear; 

And he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's wrist; 

Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action, 

With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling eyes. 



70 



It is the curse of kings to be attended 

By slaves, that take their humors for a warrant 

To break within the bloody house of life : 

And, on the winking of authority. 

To understand a law, to know the meaning 

Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance it frowns. 

More upon humor than advis'd respect. 



Father cardinal, I have heard you say, 
That we shall see and know our friends in heaven: 
If that be true, I shall see my boy again ; 
For, since the birth of Cain, the first male child. 
To him that did but yesterday suspire, 
There was not such a gracious creature born. 



There 's nothing in this world can make me joy: 
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, 
Vexing the dull ear of a drowsy man. 



To gild refined gold, to paint the lily. 

To throw a perfume on the violet. 

To smooth the ice, to add another hue 

Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light 

To seek the beauteous eye of heaven to garnish, 

Is wasteful, and ridiculous excess. 

****** = 

In this, the antique and well-noted face 

Of plain old form is much disfigured: 

And, like a shifted wind unto a sail, 

It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about: 

Startles and frights consideration; 

Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected, 

For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. 



If lusty love should go in quest of beauty. 
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch ? 
If zealous love should go in search of virtue. 
Where should he find it purer than in Blanch ? 
If love ambitious sought a match of birth. 
Whose veins bound richer blood than lady Blanch 



11 



Newton, (that proverb of the mind,) alas ! 
Declared, with all his grand discoveries recent, 
That he himself felt only "like a youth 
Picking up shells by the great ocean — Truth." 

Byron. 



Patrons of our House. 

Mr. HENRY CLAIR, Lessee of Grand Union Hotel, 
Saratoga Springs, Metropolitan Hotel and Park 
Avenue, New York. 

Mr. URIAH WELCH, Proprietor New American, Rich- 
field Springs, and St. Nicholas Hotel, New York 
City. 

Messrs. JAMES BRESLIN & BRO., Proprietors Cilsey 
House, New York City, Southern Hotel, St. Louis, 
and Brighton Beach Hotel, C. I. 

Mr. CHARLES SHELLEY, Manager Windsor Hotel, 
Saratoga Springs. 

Mr. C. T. JONES, Elberon Hotel, Elberon, N. J. 

Mr. N. CLARK, 22 West 23d Street. 
&c., &c., &c. 



Youth, what man's age is like to be, doth show; 
We mav our ends by our beginnings know. 

Denham. 



Jcing IliirlaFi* 



All places that the eye of heaven visits, 
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens: 
Teach thy necessity to reason thus; 
There is no virtue like necessity. 

Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it 

To lie that way thou goest, not whence thou comest: 

Suppose the singing birds, musicians; 

The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence strew'd; 

The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more 

Than a delightful measure, or a dance: 

For gnarling sorrow hath less pow^r to bite 

The man that mocks at it, and sets it light. 



O, who can hold a fire in his hand, 
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ? 
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite. 
By bare imagination of a feast ! 
Or wallow naked in December snow, 
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat ? 
O, no ! the apprehension of the good , 
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse: 
Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more. 
Than when it bites but lanceth not the sore. 



The bay trees in our country are all wither'd, 
And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven ; 
The pale-faced moon looks bloody on the earth. 
The lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change; 
Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap. 



74 



In winter's tedious nights, sit by the fire 

With good old folks; and let them tell thee tales 

Of woeful ages, long ago betid: 

And ere thou bid good-night, to quit their grief, 

Tell thou the lementable tale of me, 

And send the heroes weeping to their beds. 



Who are the violets now, 
That strew the green lap of the new-come spring ? 



Know'st thou not, 
That when the searching eye of heaven is hid 
Behind the globe, and lights the lower world, 
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen, 
In murders, and in outrage, bloody, here 
But when, from under this terrestrial ball, 
He fires the broad tops of the eastern pines. 
And darts his light through every guilty hole, 
Then murders, treasons, and detested sins, 
The cloak of night being pluck'd from off their backs, 
Stand bare and naked, trembling at themselves ? 



Each substance of a grief hath twenty shadows. 
Which show like grief itself, but are not so: 
For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears, 
Divides one thing entire to many objects; 
Like perspectives, which, rightly gazed upon, 
Show nothing but confusion; eyed awry. 
Distinguish form. 



No matter where: of comfort no man speak: 
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs: 
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes 
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth. 
Let's choose executors, and talk of wills: 
And yet not so, — for what can we bequeath, 
Save our deposed bodies to the ground ? 



King Heuri| 



(IP-^ I^ T I.) 



Oft too the mind well pleased surveys 
Its progress from its childish days; 
Sees how the current upwards ran, 
And reads the child o'er in the man. 



Lloyd. 



Patrons of our House. 

The Union League Club, 5th Avenue and 39th Street. 
Messrs. Haines Brothers, 5th Avenue and 17th Street. 

" iVIitchell, Vance and Co., 836 & 838 Broadway. 

" H. J. Swift & Co., - 191 Church Street. 

IVleriden Britannia Co., ----- Union Square. 
Corham Silver Plate Co., - - - - 
. Meriden Silver Plate Co., ■ - - 30 E. 14th Street. 
Mr. Theodore B. Starr, 206 Fifth Avenue. 

Mr. C. H. George, - - 936 & 938 Broadway. 

Messrs. Johnson & Faulkner, 33, 35 ^ 37 E. 17th St. 

" Worthington, Smith & Co., Union Square. 

And very many other high-toned houses. 



Wherever God erects a house of prayer, 
The devil always builds a chapel there. 

De Foe. 



Jcing l^pnrg I^, 



FIRST PART. 



This, in the name of God, I promise here : 
The which if He be pleased I shall perform, 
I do beseech your majesty may salve 
The long-grown wounds of my mtemperance: 
If not, the end of life cancels all bands: 
And I will die a hundred thousand deaths, 
Ere break the smallest parcel of this vow. 



If all the year were playing holidays, 

To sport would be as tedious as to work; 

But, when they seldom come, they wish'd for come. 

And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 



O gentlemen, the time of life is short; 

To spend that shortness basely, were too long 

If life did ride upon a dial's point. 

Still ending at the arrival of an hour. 



By heaven, methmks, it were an easy leap, 

To pluck bright honor from the pale-faced moon 

Or dive into the bo*"tom of the deep. 

Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, 

And pluck up drowned honor by the locks; 

So he, that doth redeem her thence, might wear, 

Without cor\-ival, all her dignities: 

But out upon this half- faced fellowship ! 



78 



Marry, and I'm glad of it with all my heart; 

I had rather been a kitten, and cry —mew, 

Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers: 

I had rather hear a brazen canstick turn'd. 

Or a dry wheel grate on the axletree ; 

And that would set my teeth nothing on edge, 

Nothing so much as mincing poetry; 

'Tis like the forced gait of a shuffling nag. 



I'll give thrice so much land 

To any well-deserving friend , 

But, in the way of bargain, mark ye me, 

I'll cavil on the ninth part of a hair. 



O my good lord , why are you thus alone ? 
For what offence have I, this fortnight, been 
A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed ? 
Tell me, sweet lord, what is 't that takes from thee 
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep ? 
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth; 
And start so often when thou sit'st alone ? 
****** 

Thy spirit within thee hath been so at war. 

And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, 

That beads of sweat have stood upon thy brow, 

Like bubbles in a lale distui-bed stream; 

And in thy face strange motions have appear'd, 

Such as we see when men restrain their breath 

On some great sudden haste. O, what portents are these: 

Some heavy business hath my lord in hand , 

And I must know it, else he loves me not. 



God forgive them, that have so much sway'd 

Your majesty's good thoughts away from me ! 

I will redeem all this on Percy's head. 

And, in the closing of some glorious day, 

Be bold to tell you, that I am your son; 

When I will wear a garment all of blood, 

And stain my favors in a bloody mask. 

Which, wash'd away, shall scour my shame with it. 



Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to heaven ! 
Thy ignominy sleep with thee in the grave, 
But not remember'd in thy epitaph ! 






IP .A. I?, T II 



The shelter'd cot, the cultivated farm, 

The never-failing brook, the busy mill, 

The decent church that topp'd the neighboring hill; 

The hawthorn bush, with seats beneath the shade, 

For talking age and v/hispering lovers made. 

Goldsmith. 



Lady Patrons of our Mouse. 

It would be improper for us to mention by name the 
aristocratic ladies and leaders of fashion who are our 
customers; we have a very large majority of the truly 
elite of New York City, Brooklyn, and other large 
cities, and we pronounce without question that those 
of elegant taste are our customers. 



Leaving the wits the spacious air, 
With licence to build castles there. 

Swift. 



Jfcing l^Fnrj It. 



PART mom. 



By what by-paths and indYr^^lokT^a^ ^°"' 
I met this crown; and I myself know w-11 
How troublesome it sat upon my head: 
To thee It shall descend with better quiet 
Better opmion, better confirmation; 
For all the soil of the achievement goes 
With me into the earth. 

' * * * ^ 

* * * 

Bei. thy course to busy gidjy '^L^d"' "^ "'"'' 
VVith foreign quarrels; that action, hence borne o„f 
May waste the memory of the former days '' 

That strength of speech is utterly denied me 
How came I by the crown, O God, forgive ' 
And grant it may with thee in true peace li^e ' 

^. //en. My gracious liege, 
You won it, wore it, kept it, gave it me; 
Then plam and right, must my possession be: 
Which I with moi;e than with a common pain 
Gamst all the world will rightfully maintain 

Th^ . rr ^ ^^ ^^ ^^ slain, say so: 

The tongue offends not that reports his death- 
And he doth sin that does belie the dead ' 

Not he, which says the dead is not alive.' 
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news 
Hath but a losing office; and his tongue 
bounds ever after as a sullen bell 
Remember'd knelling a departing friend 



82 



How quickly nature falls into revolt 

When gold becomes her object ! 

For this the foolish over-careful fathers 

Have broke their sleeps with thought , their brains with care. 

Their bones with industry; 

For this they have engrossed and pil'd up 

The canker 'd heaps of strange-achiev'd gold; 

For this they have been thoughtful to invest 

Their sons with arts and martial exercises: 

When, like the bee, tolling from every flower 

The virtuous sweets; 

Our thighs pack'd with wax, our mouths with honey, 

We bring it to the hive ; and like the bees, 

Are murder'd for our pains. — 



Will fortune never come with both hands full ? 
But write her fair words still in foulest letters? 
She either gives a stomach, and no food- 
Such are the poor, in health; or else a feast, 
And takes away the stomach — such are the rich. 
That have abundance, and eajoy it not. 



He is gracious, if he be observed ; 
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand 
Open as day for melting charity: 
Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he's flint; 
As humorous as winter, and as sudden 
As flaws congealed in the spring of day. 
His temper, therefore, must be well observed: 
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently, 
' When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth: 
But, being moody, give him line and scope; 
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground, 
Confound themselves with working. 



Rumor is a pipe 
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures; 
And of so easy and so plain a stop, 
That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, 
The still-discordant wavering multitude. 
Can play upon it. 



IVtng M<surt| V* 



For what are men who grasp at praise sublime, 
But bubbles on the rapid stream of time, 
That rise and fall, that swell and are no more, 
Born and forgot, ten thousand in an hour. 

Dr. Young. 



Oentlemen Patrons. 

The millionaires of New York and the United States, 
those gentlemen of exquisite taste, the nobby young 
man, the men of quiet richness, who demand fine exe- 
cution, are our customers. The fine Visiting Cards; 
the rich Club Invitations) the superb Menus; are of 
our work. As a proof call and see our work; it defies 
competition. 



Where yet was ever found a mother 
Who'd give her booby for another ? 

Gay. 



Jcing l^FflPg ^. 



So work the honey bees; 
Creatures that, by a rule in nature, teach 
The act of order to a peopled kingdom. 
They have a king, and officers of sorts: 
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home; 
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad; 
Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings, 
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds; 
Which pillage they with merry march bring home 
To the tent-royal of their emperor: 
Who, busied in his majesty, surveys 
The singing masons building roofs of gold ; 
The civil citizens kneading up the honey; 
The poor mechanic porters crowding in 
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate ; 
The sad-eyed justice, with his surly hum, 
Delivering o'er to executors pale 
The lazy yawning drone. 



Hear him but reason in divinity, 

And, all-admiring, with an inward wish 

You would desire the king were made a prelate : 

Hear him debate of commonwealth affairs, 

You would say it hath been all in all his study: 

List his discourse of war, and you shall hear 

A fearful battle render'd you in music: 

Turn him to any cause of policy, 

The Gordian knot of it he will unloose, 

Familiar as his garter ; that, when he speaks. 

The air, a charter'd libertine, is still, 

And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears. 

To steal his sweet and honey'd sentences. 



86 



Consideration like an angel came, 

And whipp'd the offending Adam out of him; 

Leaving his body as a paradise, 

To envelop and contain celestial spirits. 



O hard condition ! twin-born with greatness, 

Subjected to the breath of every fool, 

Whose sense no more can feel but his own wringing ! 

What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect, 

That private men enjoy ? 

And what have kings, that privates have not too, 

Save ceremony, save general ceremony ? 

And what art thou, thou idol ceremony ? 

What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st more 

Of mortal griefs than do thy worshippers ? 



He that outlives this day, and comes safe home. 
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named. 
And rouse him at the name of Crispian. 
He that shall live this day, and see old age. 
Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends, 
And say — To-morrow is Saint Crispian, 

What feats he did that day; then shall our names. 
Familiar in their mouths as household words, 
Harry the king, Bedford, Exeter, 
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloster, 
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember'd. 



He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand. 

And, with a feeble gripe, says, — Dear my lord. 

Commend my service to my sovereign. 

So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck 

He threw his wounded arm, and kiss'd his lips; 

And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd 

A testament of noble-ending love. 

The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd 

Those waters from me, which I would have stopp'd; 

But I had not so much of man in me, 

And all my mother came into mine eyes, 

And gave me up to tears. 



'Tis not a set of features, nor complexion, 
The tincture of a skin that I admire; 
Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover, 
Fades in the eye, and palls upon the sense. 

Addison. 



Xo Young Ladies. 



We pay especial attention to novelties in Stationery— 
in new papers, new designs, and richness of execution. 
We solicit young people's trade, and take great care 
to produce new specialties, and give satisfaction. Our 
grand success, and the elegant young ladies who favor 
us with their patronage, is a fact positive as to our 
work. 



Fair tresses man's imperial race ensnare , 
And beauty draws us with a single hair. 

Pope. 



Jcing l^^nrg ^I. 



PART I. 



Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass, 
But still remember what the Lord hath done. 



Glory is like a circle in the water, 

Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself. 

Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought. 



Marriage is a matter cf more worth 
Than to be dealt in an attorneyship. 

***** 

For what is wedlock forced , but a hell, 
An age cf discord and continual strife ? 
Whereas the contrary bringelh forth bliss, 
And is a pattern of celestial peace. 



Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep; 
And in his simple show he harbors treason. 

Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny 
Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world. 

What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted 
Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just; 
And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, 
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. 

If I depart from thee, I cannot live. 
And in thy sight to die, what were it else, 
But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap ? 
Here could I breathe my soul into the air, 
As mild and gentle as the cradle babe, 
Dying with mother's dug between its lips. 



90 



PART II. 



Justice with favor have I always done ; 
Prayers and tears have mov'd me, gifts could never. 
When have I aught exacted at your hands, 
But to maintain the king, the realm, and you ? 
Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks. 
Because my book preferr'd me to the king: 
And — seeing ignorance is the curse of God, 
Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven. 
Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits. 



And banished I am, if but from thee. 

Go, speak not to me; even now be gone. — 

O, go not yet ! — even thus two friends condemn'd 

Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, 

Loather a hundred times to part than die. 

Yet now farewell ! and farewell life with thee ! 



The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day 

Is crept into the bosom of the sea; 

And now loud -howling wolves arouse the jades 

That drag the tragic melancholy night; 

Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings 

Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws 

Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. 



A wilderness is populous enough, 
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company; 
For where thou art, there is the world itself, 
With every several pleasure in the world ; 
And where thou art not, desolation. 



91 



PART ni. 



Do but think, 
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown; 
Within whose circuit is Elysium, 
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. 



My sons— God knows what hath bechanced them: 
But this I know, they have demean'd themselves 
Like men born to renown, by life, or death. 
Three times did Richard make a lane to me; 
And thrice cried— Courage, Father! fight it out! 
And full as oft, came Edward to my side. 
With purple falchion, painted to the hilt ' 
In blood of those that had encounter'd him; 
And when the hardiest warriors did retire, ' 
Richard cried— Charge ! and give no foot of ground! 
And cried — A Crown, or else a glorious tomb ! 
A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre ! 

This battle fares like to the morning's war, 
W' hen dying clouds contend with growing light 
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, 
Can neither call it perfect day nor night. 

O God ! methinks it were a happy life. 
To be no better than a homely swain; ' 
To sit upon a hill, as I do now, 
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, 
Thereby to see the minutes how they run: 
How many make the hour full complete, 
How many hours bring about the day, 
How many days will finish up the year, 
How many years a mortal man may live. 



See how the morning opes her golden gates, 
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun \ 
How well resembles it the prime of youth, 
Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love! 



92 



Look, as I blow this leather from my face, 
And as the air blows it to me aqjain, 
Obeying with my wind when 1 io blow. 
And yielding to mother when it blows, 
Commanded always by the greater gust; 
Such is the lightness of you common men. 



Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb: 
And, for I should not deal in her soft laws 
She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe 
To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub; 
To make an envious mountain on my back, 
Where sits deformity to mock my body; 
To shape my legs of an unequal size; 
To disproportion me in every part, 
Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp, 
That carries no impression like the dam. 
And am I then a man to be beloved ? 



Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile, 
And cry Content to that which grieves my heart; 
And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, 
And frame my face to all occasions. 



Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say 

My tears gainsay; for every word I speak. 

You see, I drink the water of mine eyes, 

Therefore, no more but this: — Henry, your sovereign. 

Is prisoner to the foe ; his state usurp'd, 

His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain. 

His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent; 

And yonder is the wolf, that makes this spoil. 

You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords. 

Be valiant, and give signal to the fight. 



Ah, what a life were this ! how sweet, how lovely ! 
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep. 
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy 
To kings that fear their subjects' treachery ? 



93 



Suspicion always haunts fhe guilty mind; 
The thief doth fear each bush an officer. 



OMENS ON THE BIRTH OF RICHARD THE THIRD. 

The owl shriek'd at thy birth; an evil sign; 

The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time; 

Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees, 

The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top, 

And chattering pies in dismal discord sung. 

Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, 

And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope- 

To-wit, — an indigested and deformed lump, 

Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. 

Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born. 

To signify thou cam'st to bite the world. 



See how my poor sword weeps for the poor king's death ! 

0, may such purple tears be always shed 
From those that wish the downfall of our house ! 
If any spark of life be yet remaining, 

Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither 

1, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. 
Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of. 



Son. Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.— 
This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight. 
May be possessed with some store of crowns: 
[And I, that haply take them from him now. 
May yet, ere night, yield both my life and them 
To some man else, as this dead man doth to me.— ] 
Who's this ? — O God ! It is my father's face. 
Whom in this conflict I un' wares have kill'd. 
O heavy times, begetting such events ! 
From London by the king was I pressed forth; 
My father, being the earl of Warwick's man. 
Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; 
And I, who at his hands received my life. 
Have, by my hands, of life bereaved him, — 
Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did ! — 
And pardon, father, for I knew not thee ! — 
[My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; 
And no more words, till they have flow'd their fill.] 



94 



Such it seems, 
As may beseem a monarch like myself. 
Myself have often heard him say, and swear, — 
That this his love was an eternal plant: 
Whereof the root was fix'd ia virtue's ground. 
The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun; 
Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, 
Unless the lady Bona quit his pain. 



Peace, impudent and shameless Warwick, peace, 
Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings ! 
I will not hence, till with my talk and tears. 
Both full of truth, I make kiag Lewis behold 
Thy sly conveyance, and thy lord's false love; 
For both of you are birds of self-same feather. 



I am commanded, with your leave and favor, 
Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue 
To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart: 
Where fame, late enteriag at his heedful ears. 
Hath placed thy beauty's image, and thy virtue. 



Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss. 

But cheerily seek how to redress their harms. ] 

What though the mast be now blown overboard, 

The cable broke, the holding anchor lost, 

And half our sailors, swallow'd in the flood ? 

Yet lives our pilot still: Is't meet that he 

Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad, 

[With tearful eyes add water to the sea. 

And give more strength to that which hath too much; 

Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock. 

Which industry and courage might have saved ?] 



Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course, 
And we are graced with wreaths of victory. 
But, in the midst of this bright-shining day, 
I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud, 
That will encounter with our glorious sun , 
Ere he attain his easeful western bed. 



JVing Ivtcftard 



'Tis hard to carve for others' meat, 
And not have time one's self to eat; 
Though, be it alv^^ays understood, 
Our appetites are full as good. 



Lloyd. 



Caterers, 

This Book is issued for information and benefit to our 
customers; and being often asked by parties ordering 
Wedding and Party Invitations, "Who we can recom- 
mend as reliable Caterers," and having named Mr. 
N. CLARK, of No. 22 West 23d Street, near 5th 
Avenue, and he having given such perfect satisfaction 
in quantity, quality and service, we take great pleas- 
ure in giving him an unqualified recommendation. 



Care to our coffin adds a nail, no doubt; 
And every grin so merry draws one out. 

Dr. Walcott. 



Icing jB.ir|flF!i III. 



ACT I. 

Scene I. 

Enter GLOSTER. 

Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent 
Made glorious summer by this sun of York; 
And all the clouds, that lower'd upon our house, 
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. 
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths ; 
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; 
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, 
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. 
Grim-visaged war hath smoothed his wrinkled front* 
And now, — instead of mounting barbed steeds, 
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, — 
He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, 
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. 
But I,^that am not shaped for sportive tricks, 
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; 
I, that am xudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty, 
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; 
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, 
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, 
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time 
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up. 
And that so lamely and unfashionable, 
That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them;— 
Why I, 'v\ this weak piping time of peace, 
Have no delight to pass away the time; 
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun, 
And descant on mine own deformity: 
And therefore, — since I cannot prove a lover, 
To entertain these fair well-spoken days, — 
I am determined to prove a villain. 
And hate the idle pleasures of these days. 



98 

Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, 

By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams. 

To set my brother Clarence, and the king, 

In deadly hate, the one against the other: 

And, if King Edward be as time and just, 

As I am subtle, lalse, and treacherous, 

This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up; 

About a prophecy, which says— that G. 

Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. 

Dive, thoughts, down to my soul ! here Clarence comes. 

E»ter CL.\RENCE, guarded, aWBRAKENBURY. 

Brother, good day: What means this armed guard, 
That waits upon your grace ? 



O Lord ! methought what pain it was to drown i 
What dreadful noise of water ia mine ears ! 
What sights of ugly death wiihin niiae eyes ! 
Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; 
A thousand men that tishes gnaw'd upon; 
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heapi of pearl. 
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, 
All scatter 'd in the bottom of the sea: 
Some lay in dead men's skulls; and in those holes 
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept 
(As 'twere ia scorn of eyes), reflecting gems, 
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep. 
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scattf 'd by. 



I was born so high, 

Our aier\- buiideth in the cedar's top. 

And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. 



But then I sigh, and, with a piece of Scripture, 
Tell them that God bids us do good for evil: 
And thus I clothe my naked villainy 
With odd, old ends, stol'n forth of Holy Writ; 
And seem a saint when most I play the devil. 



99 



My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear; 

And what these sorrows could not thence exhale, 

Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. 

I never sued to friend, nor enemy; 

My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word; 

But now thy beauty is proposed my fee, 

My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. 



Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog ! 
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity, 
The slave of nature, and the son of hell ! 
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb ! 
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins ! 
Thou rag of honor ! thou detested. 



O, no, my dream was lengthen d after life; 

O, then began the tempest to my soul ! 

I pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood, 

With that grim ferryman which poets write of, 

Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 

The first that there did greet my stranger soul 

Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, 

Who cried aloud, — IV/iat scourge of perjury 

Can this dark vwnarchy afford false Clarence ? 



With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends 
Environ'd me, and howl'd in my ears 
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, 
I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after. 
Could not believe but that I was in hell ; 
Such terrible impression made my dream. 



THE CARES OF GREATNESS. 

Princes have but their titles for their glories, 
An outward honor for an inward toil; 
And, for unfelt imaginations, 
They often feel a world of restless cares: 
So that, between their titles and low name, 
There's nothing differs but the outward fame. 



lOO 



DESCRIPTION OF THE MURDER OF THE TWO YOUNG PRINCES IN 

THE TOWER. 

The tyrannous and bloody act is done; 

The most arch deed of piteous massacre 

That ever yet this land was guilty of. 

Dighton, and Forrest, whom I did suborn 

To do this piece of ruthless butchery, 

Albeit they were lesh'd villains, bloody dogs, 

Melting with tenderness and mild compassion, 

Wept like two children, in their death's sad story. 

O thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes : 

Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another 

Within their alabaster innocent arms; 

Their lips were four red roses on a stalk. 

Which, in their sutnmer beauty, kiss'' d each other. 

A book of prayers on their pillow lay: 

Which once, quoth Forrest, almost changed my mind; 

But, O, the devil — there the villain stopp'd; 

When Dighton thus told on: IVe smothered 

The most replenished sweet work of iiature, • 

That, from the prime creation, e'er she fra77ied. 

Hence both are gone, with conscience and remorse, 

They could not speak; and so I left them both, 

To bear this tidings to the bloody king. 



In common worldly things, 'tis call'd ungrateful, 
With dull unwillingness to pay a debt, 
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; 

Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, 

For it requires the royal debt it lent you. 

CHARACTER OF KING RICHARD BY HIS MOTHER. 

Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy ; 
Thy schooldays frightful, desperate, wild, and furious; 
Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous; 
Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody. 



Give me another horse, bind up my wounds ! 
Have mercy, Jesu ! — Soft ; I did but dream. — 
O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me !- 
The lights burn blue. — It is now dead midnight. 
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 
What do I fear ? myself ? 



lOI 



O Thou ! whose captain I account myself, 
Look on my forces with a gracious eye ; 
Put in their hands Thy bruising irons of wrath, 
That they may crush down, with a heavy fall, 
The usurping helmets of our adversaries; 
Make us Thy ministers of chastisement, 
That we may praise Thee in Thy victory ! 
To Thee I do commend my watchful soul, 
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes; 
Sleeping, and waking, O defend me still ! 



Conscience is but a word that cowards use, 
Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe. 

A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse. 

Cate. Withdraw, my lord, I'll help you to a horse. 

K, Rich. Slave, 1 have set my life upon a cast. 
And I will stand the hazard of the die. 
I think, there be six Richmonds in the field; 
Five have I slain to-day instead of him; 
A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! 



True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings, 
Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings. 



The weary sun hath made a golden set, 
And, by the bright tract of his fiery car, 
Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow 



Because I cannot flatter, and speak fair, 

Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, 

Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, 

I must be held a rancorous enemy. 

Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm. 

But thus his simple truth must be abused 

By silken, sly. insinuating Jacks ? 



Speak it again, and, even with the word. 
This hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love, 
Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love; 
To both their deaths shalt thou be accessory. 



I02 



When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks; 
When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; 
When the sun sets, who doth not look for night ? 
Untimely storms make men expect a dearth: 
All may be well, but, if god sort it so, 
'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect. 

2 Cit. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear : 
You cannot reason almost with a man 
That looks not heavily, and full of dread. 

J Cit. Before the days of change still is it so: 
By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust 
Ensuing danger; a?, by proof, we see 
The water swell before a boist'rous storm. 
But leave it all to God. Whither away ? 



Prince, That Julius Caesar was a famous man; 
With what his valor did enrich his wit, 
His wit set down to make his valor live: 
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; 
For now he lives in fame, though not in life. 
I'll tell you what my cousin Buckingham. 



I know a discontented gentleman, 

Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: 

Gold were as good as twenty orators. 

And will, no doubt, tempt him to anything 



Come,— I have learned, that feaiful commenting 

Is leaden servitor to dull delay; 

Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary: 

Then fiery expedition be my wing, 

Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king ! 

Go, muster men : my counsel is my shield ; 

We must be brief, when traitors brave the field. 



Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, 
To have him suddenly convey 'd from hence: — 
Cancel his bond of life, dear God I pray. 
That I may live to say the dog is dead ! 



IVtrtg Metirij 

VlJl 



Heaven speed the canvas, gallantly unfurl'd, 
To furnish and accommodate a world , 
To give the pole the produce of the sun, 
And knit the unsocial climates into one ! 

COWPER. 



Printing for Fairs. 



Ladles on committees for printing, for fairs or gather- 
ings for purpose of charity, are requested to call upon 
us, where they will be treated with liberality and cour- 
tesy. Our printing rooms are reached by an elevator, 
and none of the objections usually attending a printing 
establishment (hard to reach and dirty when found) will 
annoy the most fastidious, if they visit our establish- 
ment. 



1 . See me, how calm I am. 

2. Ay, people are generally calm at the misfortunes of others. 

Goldsmith. 



]k:ing l^Fnrg ^IIX. 



This from a dying man receive as certain: 
Where you are liberal of your loves and counsels, 
Be sure you be not loose: for those you make friends, 
And give your hearts to, when they once perceive 
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away 
Like water from ye, never found again 
But where they mean to sink ye. 



Alas, sir, 
In what have I offended you ? what cause 
Hath my behavior given to your displeasure. 
That thus you should proceed to put me off. 
And take your good grace from me ? Heaven witness, 
I have been to you a true and humble wife, 
At all times to your will conformable : 
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, 
.Yea, subject to your countenance; glad, or sorry. 
As I saw it inclined. When was the hour 
I ever contradicted your desire, 

Or made it not mine too ? Or which of your friends 
Have I not strove to love, although I knew 
He were mine enemy ? what friend of mine 
That had to him derived your anger, did I 
Continue in my liking ? nay, gave notice 
He was from thence discharged ? Sir, call to mind 
That I have been your wife, in this obedience. 
Upward of twenty years, and have been blest 
With many children by you: if, in the course 
And process of this time, you can report, 
And prove it too, against mine honor aught, 
My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty. 
Against your sacred person, in God's name, 
Turn me away ; and let the foul'st contempt 
Shut door upon me, and so give me up 
To the sharp'st kind of justice. 



io6 



If I am traduced by tongues, which neither know 

My faculties nor person, yet will be 

The chronicles of my doing, let me say, 

'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake 

That virtue must go through. 



Noble madam, 
Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues 
We write in water. 



CARDINAI. WOLSEY'S SPEECH TO CROMWELL. 

Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 

In all my miseries; but thou hast forced me 

Out cf thy honest truth to play the woman. 

Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; 

And, when I am forgotten, as I shall be, 

And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention 

Of me more must be heard of, say, I taught thee, 

Say, Wols2y— that once trod the ways of glory, 

And sounded all the depths and shoals of honor — 

Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; 

A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. 

Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. 

Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition; 

By that sin fell the angels, how can man then, 

The image of his Maker, hope to win by 't ? 

Love thyself last: cherish those hearts that hate thee; 

Corruption wins not more than honesty. 

Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, 

To silence envious tongues. Be just and fear not: 

Let all the ends thou aimst at be thy country's. 

Thy God's, and truths; then if thou fall'st, O Cromwell, 

Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king; 

And, — pry thee, lead me in: 

There, take an inventory of all I have, 

To the last penny: 'tis the king's; my robe. 

And my integrity to heaven, is all 

I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Cromwell, 

Had I but served my God with half the zeal 

I served my king, He would not in mine age 

Have left me naked to mine enemies. 



loy 



He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one ; 
Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading: 
Lofty and sour to them that loved him not; 
But to those men tha*" sousjht him sweet as summer. 



So may he rest: his faults lie gently on him ! 

Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak to him, 

And yet with charity. 



New customs. 

Though they be never so ridiculous, 

Nay, let 'em be unmanly, yet are follow'd. 



THE VICISSITUDES OF LIFE, 

So farewell to the little good you bear me. 
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! 
This is the state cf man ; to-day he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, 
And bears his blushing honors thick upon bim: 
The third day comes a frost, a killing frost ; 
And — when he thinks, good easy man, full surely 
His greatness is a ripening — rips his root. 
And then he falls, as I do. I have ventur'd, 
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, 
These many summers in a sea of glory ; 
But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride 
At length broke under me; and now has left me. 
Vain pomp and glory of this world , I hate thee ! 
I feel my heart new-open'd: O, how wretched 
Is that poor man that hangs on princes' favors ! 
There is, betwixt the smile he would aspire to, 
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, 
More pangs and fears than wars or women have ; 
And when he falls , he falls like Lucifer, 
Never to hope again. 



Like the lily. 
That once was mistress of the field and flourish'd, 
I'll hang my head and perish. 



io8 

A loss of her 

That, like a jewel, hath hung twenty years 
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre; 
Of her, that loves him with that excellence 
That angels love good men with; even of her 
That, when the greatest strokes of fortune falls, 
Will bless the king. 



Have I lived thus long — let me speak myself, 

Since virtue finds no friends — a wife, a true one ? 

A woman, I daresay, without vainglory, 

Never yet branded with suspicion ? 

Have I with all my full affections 

Still met the king ? loved him next heaven? obeyed him ? 

Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him ? 

Almost forgot my prayers to content him ? 

And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords. 

Bring me a constant woman to her husband, 

One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure; 

And to that woman, when she has done most, 

Yet will I add an honor, a great patience. 



To climb steep hills 
Requires slow pace at first: anger is like 
A full-hot horse ; who being allow'd his way. 
Self-mettle tires him. 



'Tis better to be lowly born, 
And range with humble livers in content. 
Then to be perk'd up in a glistering grief. 
And wear a golden sorrow. 



May he live 

Longer than I have time to tell his years ! 
Ever belov'd, and loving may his rule be ! 
And, when old time shall lead him to his end, 
Goodness and he fill up one monument ! 



I09 



CARDINAL WOLSEY'S DEATH. 

At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, 
Lodg'd in the abbey ; where the reverend abbott, 
With all his convent, honorably receiv'd him; 
To whom he gave these words: — O father abbott^ 
An oldvian^ broken with the storms of state ^ 
Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; 
Give him a Utile earth for charity! 
So went to bed: where eagerly his sickness 
Pursu'd him still; and, three nights after this, 
About the hour of eight (which he himself 
Foretold should be his last), full of repentance, 
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows. 
Gave he his honors to the world again, 
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. 



Some strange commotion 
Is in his brain: he bites his lips, and starts; 
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, 
Then lays his finger on his temple; straight. 
Springs out into fast gait: then, stops again, 
Strikes his breast hard; and anon he casts 
His eye against the moon: in most strange postures 
We have seen him set himself. 



Love and meekness, lord. 
Become a churchman better than ambition; 
Win straying souls with modesty again, 
Cast none away. 



'Tis a cruelty 
To load a falling man. 

Be admired; 

Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot 
That it do singe yourself: we may outrun. 
By violent swiftness, that which we run at, 
And lose by over-running. 



For there was never yet fair woman, but she made mouths in a glass. 



no 

the ^t age 350 years ago. 
Prologue. 

I come no more to make you laugh ; things now, 

That bear a weighty and a serious brow, 

Sad, high, and working, full of state and wo, 

Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow, 

We now present. Those that can pity, here 

May, if they think it well, let fall a tear, 

The subject will deserve it. Such, as give 

Their money out of hope they may believe, 

May here find truth too. Those, that come to see 

Only a show or two, and so agree, 

The play may pass; if they be still, and willing, 

I'll undertake, may see away their shilling 

Richly in two short hours. Only they, 

That come to hear a merry, bawdy play, 

A noise of targets; or to see a fellow 

In a long motley coat, guarded with yellow. 

Will be deceived: for, gentle hearers, know, 

To rank our chosen truth with such a shew 

As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting 

Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring, 

(To make that only true we now intend.) 

Will leave us never an understanding friend. 

Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known 

The first and happiest hearers cf the town. 

Be sad; as we would make ye: think, ye see 

The very persons of our noble story, 

As they were living; think you see them great. 

And follow'd with the general throng, and sweat. 

Of thousand friends; then, in a moment, see 

How soon this mightiness meets misery ! 

And, if you can be merry then, I'll say, 

A man may weep upon his wedding day. 



O Sir, to wilful men, 
The injuries that they themselves procure, 
Must be their schoolmasters. 



Child Rowland to the dark tower came, 
Edg. His word was still, — Fie, foh, and fum, 
I smell the blood of a British man. 



wlntoui| and 
wfeopatra* 



Though equal to all things, for all things unfit; 
Too nice for a statesman, too proud for a wit; 
For a patriot too cool: for a drudge disobedient; 
.\nd too fond of the Hght to pursue the expedient. 

Goldsmith. 



Printing of Circulars and 
Cards. 

Printing for ladies and gentlemen business announce- 
ments, in novel and pleasing style, has been a serious 
difficulty, because the owners and managers of print- 
ing establishments have little or no taste of their ov»rn, 
and are careless of the interests of their customers. 
We take special pains to meet the wishes of our pa- 
trons, thereby we thrive. 



Not one immoral, one corrupted thought, 
One line which, dying, he could wish to blot. 

Lyttleton. 



Sinkng flnh OlFopflj^PH. 



DESCRIPTION OF CLEOPATRA SAILING DOWN THE CYDNT'S. 

The barge she sat in, like a bumish'd throne, 

Burn'd on the water: the poop was beaten gold; 

Purple the sails, and so perfumed that 

The winds were love-sick with them: the oars were silver; 

WTiich to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and made 

The water which they beat to follow faster, 

As amorous of their strokes. For her own person, 

It beggar 'd all description: she did lie 

In her pavilion— cloth-of-gold of tissue 

O'er-picturing that Venus where we see 
The fancy out-work nature: on each side of her 
Stood pretty dimpled boys, smiling Cupids, 
With divers-color'd fans, whose wind did seem 
To glow the delicate cheeks which they did cool. 
And what they undid, did. 

^£^- O, rare for Antony ! 

£no. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, 
So many mermaids, tended her i' the eyes, 
And made their bends adomings: at the helm 
A seeming mermaid steers: the silken tackle 
Swell with the touches of those flower-soft hands. 
That yarely frame the ofiice. From the barcre 
A strange in\-isible perfume hits the sense 
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast 
Her people out upon her; and Antony, 
Enthroned i' the market-place, did sit alone. 
Whistling to the air; which, but for vacancy. 
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too, 
And made a gap in nature. 



The soul and body rive not more in parting 
Than greatness going off. 



114 



Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale 

Her infinite variety: other women 

Cloy th' appetites they feed : but she makes hungry 

Where most she satisfies. For vilest things 

Become themselves in her; that the holy priests 

Bless her when she is riggish. 



Give me mine angle; we'll to the river: there, 
My music playing far off, I will betray 
Tawny-finn'd fishes; my bended hook shall pierce 
Their slimy jaws; and, as I draw them up, 
I'll think them every one an Antony, 
And say — Ah, ha! you're caught. 



Cleopatra's speech on applying the asp. 

Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I have 
Immortal longings in me. Now no more 
The juice cf Egypt's grape shall moist his lip; 
Yare, yare, good Iras; quick. Me thinks I hear 
Antony call; I see him rouse himself 
To praise my noble act; I hear him mock 
The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men 
To excuse their after wrath. Husband, I come: 
Now to that name my courage prove my title i 
I am fire and air ; my other elements 
I give to baser life. So, have you done ? 
Come, then, and take the last warmth of my lips. 
Farewell, kind Charmian; Iras, long farewell. 
Have I the aspic in my lips ? Dost fall ? 
If thou and nature can so gently part, 
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch. 
Which hurts and is desired. Dost thou lie still ? 
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world 
It is not worth leave-taking. 

Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain; that I may say 
The gods themselves do weep ! 



Wisdom and fortune combating together. 
If that the former dare but what it can, 
No chance may shake it. 



115 



Death of one person can be paid but once; 

And that she has discharged. What thou wouldst do, 

Is done unto thy hand; the last she spake 

Was — Antony/ most noble Antony! 

Then in the midst a tearing groan did break 

The name of Antony; it was divided 

Between her heart and lips: she render'd life, 

Thy name so buried in her. 



Sometime, we see a cloud that's dragonish: 

A vapor, sometime, like a bear or lion, 

A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock, 

A forked mountain, or blue promontory 

With trees upon 't, that nod unto the world. 

And mock our eyes with air: thou hast seen these signs; 

They are black vesper's pageants. 



What poor an instrument 

May do a noble deed ! He brings me liberty. 

My resolution 's plac'd, and I have nothing 

Of woman in me; now from head to foot 

I am marble constant: now the fleeting moon 

No planet is of mine. 



We, ignorant of ourselves, 

Beg often our own harms, which the wise powers 

Deny us for our good; so find we profit 

By losing of our prayers. 



I see men's judgments are 
A parcel of their fortunes: and things outward 
Do draw the inward quality after them, 
To suffer all alike. 



ii6 



My salad days: 
Wlien I was green in iudgment: — Cold in blood, 
To say. as I said then ! — But, come, away: 
Get me ink and paper: he shall have even* day 
A several greeting, or I'll unpeople Eg)-pt. 



I will not hurt him: — 
These hands do lack nobility, that they strike 
A meaner than myself; since I myself 
Have given myself the cause. — Come hither, sir. 



Though it be honest, it is never good 
To bring bad news: Give to a gracious message 
An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell 
Themselves, when they be felt. 



For quick accumulation of renown. 
Which he achieved by the minute, lost his favor. 
\Mio does i' the wars more than his captain can, 
Becomes his captain's captain: and ambition, 
The soldier's virtue; rather makes choice of loss, 
Than gain, which darkens him. 



The loyalty, well held to fools, does make 
Our faith mere folly : Yet, he, that can endure 
To follow vriih. allegiance a fallen lord, 
Does conquer him that did his master conquer. 
And earns a place i* the stor}-. 



Noblest of men, woo't die ? 
Hast thou no care of me ? shall I abide 
In this dull world, which, in my absence is 
No better than a sty.^ — O, see, my women, 
The crown o' the earth doth melt : — My lord I — 
O, wither'd is the garland of the war, 
The soldier's pole is fallen; young boys and girls 
Are level now with men ; the odds is gone, 
And there is nothing left remarkable 
Beneath the visiting moon. 



wortofanus. 



No: — Let the eagle change his plume, 
The leaf its hue, the flower its bloom, 
But ties around his heart were spun, 
That could not, would not, be undone ! 

Campbell. 



Catalogfue Printing. 

Catalogues printed for private libraries as plain or rich 
in style as may be required. We have for several 
years furnished the UNION LEAGUE CLUB on their 
reception days and exposition of paintings the Cata- 
logues, and given entire satisfaction. Catalogues of 
paintings and libraries for sale, executed with despatch 
and to the pleasure of those ordering them. 



A good book is the precious life-blood of a master-spirit, embalmed 
and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life. 

Milton. 



Ooriolanns^ 



CHARACTER OF CORIOLANUS. 

His nature is too noble for the world ; 

He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, 

Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart 's his mouth: 

What his breast forges that his tongue must vent* 

And, being angry, does forget that ever 

He heard the name of death. 



O, world, thy slippery turns ! Friends now fast sworn, 

Whose double bosoms seem to wear one heart, 

Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal, and exercise, 

Are still together, who twin, as 't were in love 

Unseparable, shall within this hour, 

On a dissention of a doit, break out 

To bitterest enmity: so fellest foes, 

Whose passions and whose plots have broke their sleep 

To take the one the other, by some chance, 

Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear friends, 

And interjoin their issues. 



I have heard you say 
Honor and policy, like unsever'd friends, 
I' the war do grow together: grant that, and tell me 
In peace, what each of them by th* other lose, 
That they combine not there. 



My soul aches, 
To know, when two authorities are up , 
Neither supreme, how soon confusion 
May enter 'twixt the gap of both, and take 
The one by the other. 



I20 



The god of soldiers, 
With the consent of supreme Jove, inform 
Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou mayst prove 
To shame unvulnerable, and stick i' the wars 
Like a great sea-mark, standing every flaw, 
And saving those that eye thee ! 



The noble sister of Publicola, 
The moon of Rome; chaste as the icicle. 
That 's curded by the frost from purest snow, 
And hangs on Dian's temple, dear Valeria ! 



What would you have, you curs, 

That like nor peace nor war ? the one affrights you. 

The other makes you proud. He that trusts to you, 

Where he should find you lions, find you hares; 

Where foxes geese; you are no surer, no, 

Than is the coal of fire upon the ice, 

Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is 

To make him worthy, whose offence subdues him, 

And curse that justice did it. Who deserves greatness. 

Deserves your hate; and your affections are 

A sick man's appetite, who desires most that 

Which would increase his evil. He that depends 

Upon your favors swims with fins of lead, 

And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye ! Trust ye ? 

With every minute you do change a mind; 

And call him noble, that was now your hate, 

Him vile, that was your garland. 



Like a dull actor now, 
I have forgot my part, and I am out, 
Even to a full disgrace. Best of my flesh, 
Forgive my tyranny ; but do not say, 
For that, Forgive our Romans. — O, a kiss 
Long as my exile, sweet as my revenge ! 
Now, by the jealous queen of heaven, that kiss 
I carried from thee, dear ! and my true lip 
Hath virgin'd it e'er since. — You gods, I prate, 
And the most noble mother of the world 
Leave unsaluted: sink, my knee, i' the earth: 
Of thy deep duty more impression show 
Than that of common sons. 



wijtttf^eftite* 



The lessons of prudence have charms, 
And slighted may lead to distress; 
But the man whom benevolence warms 
Is an angel who lives but to bless. 

Bloomfield. 



Cliristinas Cards. 

Dempsey & Carroll will keep the largest assortment of 
rich Christmas Cards in New York City. We shall 
decline cheap cards, and devote our space to hand- 
painted SILK, SATIN and PLUSH novelties of our own 
make, at prices from $1 to $25 each. 

Christening and Birthday Cards of fine goods made 
to order. 



Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, 

When thought is speech, and speech is truth. 

Scott. 



OpbriinF. 



I would have broke mine eye-strings, crack'd them, but 

To look upon him: till the diminution 

Of space had pointed him sharp as my needle; 

Nay, follow'd him till he had melted from 

The smallness of a gnat to air: and then 

Have turn'd mine eye and wept. 



I did not take my leave of him, but had 

Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him, 

How I would think on him, at certain hours, 

Such thoughts, and such ; or I could make him swear 

The shes of Italy should not betray 

Mine interest and his honor; or have charged him, 

At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at midnight, 

To encounter me with orisons, for then 

I am in heaven for him: or ere I could 

Give him that parting kiss, which I had set 

Betwixt two charming words, comes in my father, 

And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north, 

Shakes all our buds from growing. 



No, 'tis slander, 
Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue 
Out venoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath 
Rides on the posting winds and doth belie 
All corners of the world : kings, queens, and states, 
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave , 
This viperous slander enters. 



False to his bed ? What is it to be false ? 

To lie in watch there and to think on him ? 

To weep 'twixt clock and clock ? if sleep charge nature, 

To break it with a fearful dream of him, 

And cry myself awake ? that 's false to his bed ! 



124 

Weariness 
Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth 
Finds the down pillow hard. 



To who ? to thee ? What art thou ? Have not I 
An arm as big as thine ? a heart as big ? 
Thy words, I grant, are bigger; for I wear not 
My dagger ia my mouth. 



Could I find out 
The woman's part in me ! For there 's no motion 
That tends to vice in man but I affirm 
It is the woman's part: be it lying, note it, 
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; 
Ambition, covetings, change of prides, disdain, 
Nice longing, slanders, mutability, 
All faults that may be named, nay, that hell knows, 
Why, hers, in part, or all; but rather all. 



'Tis gold 
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and makes 
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up 
Their deer to the stand of the stealer; and 'tis gold 
Which makes the true man kill'd and saves the thief; 
Nay, sometime, hangs both thief and true man; what 
Can it not do, and undo ? 



Doubting things go ill, often hurts more 
Than to be sure they do. For certainties 
Either are past remedies: or, timely knowing 
The remedy then born; discover to me 
What both you spur and stop. 



The bird is dead, 
That we have made so much on. I had rather 
Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, 
To have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch. 
Than have seen this. 



Hamfei 



Why dost thou shun the salt? that sacred pledge, 
Which once partaken blunts the sabre's edge. 
Makes e'en contending tribes in peace unite, 
And hated hosts seem brethren to the sight. 



Byron. 



Progframmes and Orders of 
Dances. 

Programmes for Private Theatricals and Entertainments 
printed at the very shortest notice. THE MENDELS- 
SOHN AND STOCK EXCHANGE GLEE CLUB pro- 
grammes were from our establishment, and they were, 
unquestionably, the handsomest ever produced. 



ORDERS OF DANCES for Private Parties, Balls and 
for public entertainments, executed with despatch. Or- 
ders of the most elegant character, or plain and re- 
cherche. 



The rising blushes, which her cheek o'erspread. 
Are opening roses in the lily's bed. 

Gay. 



l^amlpL 



SOLILOQUY ON LIFE AND DEATH. 

To be, or not to be, that is the question: 

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer 

The sUngs and arrows of outrageous fortune ; 

Or to take arms against a sea of troubles, 

And, by opposing, end them? To die: to sleep; 

No more ; and, by a sleep, to say we end 

The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks 

That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation 

Devoutly to be wished. To die, to sleep; 

To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub; 

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, 

When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, 

Must give us pause. There's the respect, 

That makes calamity of so long life: 

For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely. 

The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, 

The insolence of office, and the spurns 

That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 

When he himself might his quietus make 

With a bare bodkin ? Who would fardels bear. 

To grunt and sweat under a weary life; 

But that the dread of something after death, 

The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn 

No traveler returns, puzzles the will ; 

And makes us rather bear those ills we have, 

Than fly to others that we know not of ! 

Thus conscience does make cowards of us all. 

And thus the native hue of resolution 

Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought; 

And enterprises of great pith and moment. 

With this regard, their currents turn awry, 

And lose the name of action. 



128 



O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain ! 

My tables, — meet it is, I set it down. 

That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain. 



hamlet's soliloquy on his mother's marriage. 

O, that this too too solid flesh would melt, 

Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew ! 

Or that the everlasting had not fix'd 

His canon 'gainst self-slaughter ! O God ! God ! 

How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable 

Seem to me all the uses of this world ! 

Fie on 't! ah fie ! 'tis an un weeded garden, 

That grows to seed ; things rank and gross in nature 

Possess it merely. That it should come to this ! 

But two months dead ! nay, not so much, not two: • 

So excellent a king ; that was, to this, 

Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother, 

That he might not beteem the winds of heaven 

Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and earth ! 

Must I remember? why, she would hang on him. 

As if increase of appetite had grown 

By what it fed on. And yet, within a month, — 

Let me not think on 't — Frailty, thy name is woman !- 

A little month ; or ere those shoes were old 

With which she follow'd my poor father's body, 

Like Niobe, all tears: — why she, even she, — 

O heaven I a beast, that wants discourse of reason, 

Would have mourn'd longer, — married with my uncle. 

My father's brother; but no more like my father. 

Than I to Hercules: within a month. 

Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears 

Had left the flushing in her galled eyes. 

She married. O most wicked speed, to post 

With such dexterity to incestuous sheets ! 

It is not nor it cannot come to good. 



'Tis now the very witching time of night, 

When churchyards yawn, and hell itself breathes out 

Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood. 

And do such bitter business as the day 

Would quake to look on. 



129 



Ham. Look here, upon this picture, and on this; 
J he counterfeit presentment of two brothers 
bee, what a grace was seated on this brow 
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself- 
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command- 
A station like the herald Mercury, ' 

New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; 
A combination and a form, indeed, 
Where every god did seem to set his seal, 
To give the world assurance of a man- 
This was your husband. Look you now, what follows: 
Here is your husband; like a mildew'd ear 
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes 
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed 
And batten on this moor ? Ha ! have you eves ? 
Vou cannot call it love: for at your age 
The hey-day in the blood is tame, it 's humble 
And waits upon the judgment: and what judgment 
Would step from this to ihis ? Sense, sure you have. 
Else, could you not have motion: but, sure, that sense 
Is apoplex d;. for madness would not err; 
Nor sense to ecstacy was ne'er so thrall'd'. 
But It reserved some quantity of choice, 
To serve in such a difference. What devil was 't, 
1 hat thus hath cozen'd you at hoodman blind • 
Lyes without feeling, feeling without sight, ' 
Lars without hands or eyes, smelling sans all, 
Or but a sickly part of one true sense 
Could not so mope. 

O shame! Where is thy blush ? Rebellious hell. 
It ttiou canst mutine in a matron's bones, 
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, 
And melt in her own fire: proclaim no shame, 
When the compulsive ardor gives the charge 
Since frost itself as actively doth burn. 
And reason panders will. 



Fie upon 't ! foh ! About my brain ! Humph ! I have heard 

1 hat guilty creatures sitting at a play, 

Have by the very cunning of the scene 

Been struck so to the soul, that presently 

They have proclaim'd their malefactions; 

For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak 

With most miraculous organ. 



I30 

Give me that man 
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him 
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart, 
As I do thee. 



CAUTIONS TO YOUNG FEMALES. 

For Hamlet, and the trifling of his favor, 

Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood ; 

A violet in the youth of primy nature, 

Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting, 

The perfume and suppliance of a minute: 

No more. 

Then weigh what loss your honor may sustain, 

If with too credent ear you list his songs; 

Or lose your heart: or your chaste treasure open 

To his unmaster'd importunity. 

Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister; 

And keep you in the rear of your affection, 

Out of the shot and danger of desire. 

The chariest maid is prodigal enough. 

If she unmask her beauty to the moon; 

Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes 

The canker galls the infants of the spring. 

Too oft before their buttons be disclos'd; 

And m the morn and liquid dew of youth 

Contagious blastments are most imminent. 



SATIRE ON UNGRACIOUS PASTORS. 

I shall th' effect of this good lesson keep, 

As watchman to my heart: but, good my brother. 

Do not, as some ungracious pastors do. 

Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven ; 

Whilst, like a puff'd and reckless libertine. 

Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads. 

And recks not his own read. 



O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! 

Is it not monstrous that this player here, 

But in a fiction, in a dream of passion. 

Could force his soul so to his own conceit, 

That from her working all his visage wann'd. 

Tears in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, 

A broken voice, and his whole function suiting 

Which forms to his conceit ? and all for nothing ! 



131 



ADVICE TO A SON GOING TO TRAVEL. 

Give thy thoughts no tongue 
Nor any unproportion'd thought his act. 
Be thou famihar, but by no means vulgar. 
Those friends thou hast, and their adoption tried, 
Grapple them to thy soul with hooks of steel ; 
But do not dull thy palm with entertainment 
Of each new-hatch'd, unfledged comrade. Beware 
Of entrance to a quarrel; but, being in. 
Bear 't that the opposed may beware of thee. 
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice : 
Take each man's censure, but reserve thy judgment. 
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy, 
But not express'd in fancy; rich, not gaudy. 
For the apparel oft proclaims the man ; 
And they in France, of the best rank and station, 
Are most select and generous, chief in that. 
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be; 
For loan oft loses both itself and friend, 
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry. 
This above all — to thine own self be true: 
And it must follow, as the night the day, 
Thou canst not then be false to any man. 



O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown ! 

The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, sword. 

The expectancy and rose of the fair state, 

The glass of fashion and the mould of form, 

The observed of all observers, quite, quite down ! 

And I, of ladies most deject and wretched. 

That suck'd the honey of his music vows. 

Now see that noble and most sovereign reason, 

Like sweet bells jangl'd, out of tune and harsh; 

That unmatch'd form and feature of blown youth, 

Blasted with ecstacy. 



But virtue, as it never will be moved. 
Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven ; 
So lust, though to a radiant angel link'd, 
Will sate itself in a celestial bed, 
And prey on garbage. 



132 

He was a man, take him for all in all. 
I shall not look upon his like again. 



HAMLET, ON THE APPEARANCE OF HIS FATHER'S GHOST 

Angels and ministers of grace defend us ! — 

Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn'd; 

Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts from hell, 

Be thy intents wicked or charitable. 

Thou com'st in such a questionable shape, 

That I will speak to thee; I'll call thee, Hamlet, 

King, father, royal Dane ; O, answer me : 

Let me not burst in ignorance: but tell, 

Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death, 

Have burst their cerements ! why the sepulchre, 

Wherein we saw thee quietly in-urn'd. 

Hath ope'd his ponderous and marble jaws, 

To cast thee up again ! What may this mean, 

That thou, dead corse, again, in complete steel 

Revisit 'st thus the glimpses of the moon, 

Making night hideous; and we fools of nature, 

So horridly to shake our disposition 

With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ? 



Ham. Alas! poor Yorick ! — I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of 
infinite jest; of most excellent fancy : he hath borne me on his back 
a thousand times; and now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! 
my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips, that I have kissed I 
know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? your gambols? 
your songs? your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the 
table on a roar ? Not one now, to mock your own grinning ? quite 
chap-fallen ? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let 
her paint an inch thick, to this favor she must come; make her 
laugh at that. 



Ham. O, my prophetic soul ! my uncle ! 



Give me the cups; 
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak. 
The trumpet to the cannoneer without. 
The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, — 
Now the king drinks to Hamlet, 



133 



THE king's despairing SOLILOQUY, AND HAMLET's 
REFLECTIONS ON HIM. 

O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven ; 

It hath the primal eldest curse upon 't, 

A brother's murder ! — Pray can I not, 

Though inclination be as sharp as will; 

My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent; 

And, like a man to double business bound, 

I stand in pause where I shall first begin, 

And both neglect. What if this cursed hand 

Were thicker than itself with brother's blood ? 

Is there not rain enough in the sweet heavens 

To wash it white as snow ? Whereto serves mercy 

But to confront the visage of offence ? 

And what 's in prayer, but this two-fold force, — 

To be forestalled ere we come to fall. 

Or pardoned, being down ? Then I'll look up; 

My fault is past. But, O, what foi-m of prayer 

Can serve my turn ? Forgive me my foul murder 

That cannot be ; since I am still possess'd 

Of those effects for which I did the murder. 

My crown, mine own ambition, and my queen. 

May one be pardon'd, and retain th' offence ? 

In the corrupted currents of this world, 

Offence's gilded hand may shove by justice; 

And oft 'tis seen, the wicked prize itself 

Buys out the law. But 'tis not so above: 

There is no shuffling, there the action lies 

In his true nature; and we ourselves compeil'd, 

Even to the teeth and forehead of our faults. 

To give in evidence. What then? what rests? 

Try what repentance can : what can it not ? 

Yet what can it, when one can not repent? 

O wretched state ! O bosom, black as death; 

O limed soul, that, struggling to be free. 

Art more engag'd ! Help, angels, make essay ! 

Bow, stubborn knees ! and heart, with strings of steel, 

Be soft as sinews of the new-born babe ; 

All may be well ! 



There 's a divinity that shapes our ends. 
Rough-hew them how we will. 



134 



I am thy father's spirit; 
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night; 
And for the day confined to fast in fires, 
Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature 
Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid 
To tell the secrets of my prison house, 
I could a tale unfold whose lightest word 
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood. 
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres. 
Thy knotted and combined locks to part 
And each particular hair to stand on end, 
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine: 
But this eternal blazon must not be 
To ears of ilesh and blood. List, list, O list ! 
If thou did'st ever thy dear father love — 



A CONUNDRUM. 

2d Clo. Who builds stronger than a mason, a shipwright , or a 
carpenter ? 

ist Clo. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke. 

2d Clo. Marry, now I can tell. 

ist Clo. To 't. 

2d Clo. Mass, I cannot tell. 

ist Clo. Cudgel thy brains no more about it; for your dull ass 
will not mend his pace with beating; and when you are asked this 
question next, say, a grave-maker : the houses that he makes, last 
till doomsday. 



O heavens ! is 't possible, a young maid's wits 
Should be as mortal as an old man's life ? 
Nature is fine in love: and, where 'tis fine, 
It sends some precious instance of itself 
After the thing it loves. 



What is a man. 
If his chief good, and market of his time, 
Be but to sleep, and feed ? a beast, no more. 
Sure, he, that made us with such large discourse, 
Looking before, and after, gave us not 
That capability and godlike reason 
To fust in us unused. 



When sorrows come, they come not single spies. 
But in battalions I 



Jttfttts waesar 



Bent o'er her babe, her eye dissolved in dew; 
The big drops mingling with the milk he drew, 
Gave the sad presage of his future years, 
The child of misery, baptiz'd in tears ! 

Langhorne. 



Pens^ Ink^ Paper^ &c. 



Stationery and its accompaniments IS OUR ONLY 
BUSINESS, and our attention is entirely devoted to our 
business: Writing Boxes, Portfolios, Ink Stands, Paper 
Knives, Paper Weights, Pens, Ink, Sealing Wax, and 
the various articles in our line of choicest patterns on 
hand, or furnished to order. 



What's female beauty but an air divine 

Through which the mind's all-gentle graces shine. 

Dr. Young 



jiulins OflFsar* 



Caesar said to me — Darest thou^ Casshts, now 

Leap in with me into this angry flood. 

And swim to yonder point ? 

Upon the word, 

Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, 

And bade him follow: so, indeed, he did. 

The torrent roar'd; and we did buffet it 

With lusty sinews; throwing it aside 

And stemming it with hearts of controversy. 

But ere we could arrive the point proposed, 

Coesar cried — Help me, Cassiits, or I sink. 



Bru. Another general shout ! 
I do believe that these applauses are 
For some new honors that are heap'd on Caesar. 

Cas. Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world 
Like a Colossus: and we petty men 
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about 
To find ourselves dishonorable graves. 
Men at some time are masters of their fates: 
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, 
But in ourselves, that we are underlings. 
Brutus and Cassar; what should be in that Caesar? 
Why should that name be sounded more than yours ? 
Write them together, yours is as fair a name ; 
Sound them, it doth become the mouth as well; 
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure with them, 
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar. 
Now in the names of all the gods at once, 
Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed, 
That he is grown so great? Age, thou art shamed: 
Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble bloods ! 
When went there by an age, since the great flood, 
But it was famed with more than with one man ? 
When could they say, till now, that talk'd of Rome, 
That her wide walls encorapass'd but one man ? 



138 

Would he were fatter ! But I fear him not: 
Yet if my name were liable to fear, 
I do not know the man I should avoid 
So soon as that spare Cassius. 



But 'tis a common proof, 
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder, 
Whereto the climber-upward turns his face: 
But when he once attains the upmost round. 
He then unto the ladder turns his back, 
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees 
By which he did ascend. 



Between the acting of a dreadful thing 
And the first motion, all the interim is 
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream: 
The genius, and the mortal instruments, 
Are then in council ; and the state of man, 
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then 
The nature of an insurrection. 



Gentle friends, 
Let 's kill him boldly, but not wrathfully ; 
Let 's carve him as a dish fit for the gods. 
Not hew him as a carcass fit for hounds; 
And let our hearts, as subtle masters do. 
Stir up their servants to an act of rage, 
And after seem to chide them. 



Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber: 
Thou hast no figures, nor no fantasies, 
Which busy care draws in the brains of men; 
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. 



Cowards die many times before their deaths; 

The valiant never taste of death but once. 

Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, 

It seems to me most strange that men should fear; 

Seeing that death, a necessary end, 

Will come when it will come, 



139 

C?esar's spirit, raging for revenge, 
With Ate by his side, come hot from hell, 
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice, 
Cry Havoc, and let slip the dogs of war. 



BRUTUS'S SPEECH TO THE PEOPLE. 

If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of Caesar's, to 
him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar was no less than his. If then 
that friend demand why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer, 
— Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved Rome more. Had 
you rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves; than that Caesar 
were dead, to live all free men ? As Caesar loved me I weep for him; 
as he was fortunate, I rejoibe at it; as he was valiant, I honor him: 
but, as he was ambitious, I slew him. There is tears for his love; 
joy for his fortune; honor for his valor; and death for his ambition. 
Who is here so base, that would be a bondman? If any, speak; for 
him have I offended. Who is here so rude, that would not be a 
Roman? If any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so 
vile, that will not love his country? If any, speak; for him have I 
offended. 



Bru. No, Cassius, no: think not, thou noble Roman, 
That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome: 
He bears too great a mind. But this same day 
Must end that work the ides of March begun ; 
And whether we shall meet again I know not. 
Therefore our everlasting farewell take: — 
For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius ! 
If we do meet again, why we shall smile ! 
If not, why then this parting was well made. 



ANTONY S CHARACTER OF BRUTUS. 

This was the noblest Roman of them all ; 

All the conspirators, save only he, 

Did that they did in envy of great Caesar; 

He, only, in a general honest thought, 

And common good to all, made one of them. 

His life was gentle; and the elements 

So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand up 

And say to all the world, This was a man I 



I40 



ANTONY'S FUNERAL ORATION. 



Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears; 

I come to bury C?esar, not to praise him. 

The evil, that men do, lives after them; 

The good is often interred with their bones; 

So let it be with Csesar. The noble Brutus 

Hath told you Ctesar was ambitious; 

If it were so, it was a greivous fault; 

And greivously hath Cjesar answer'd it. 

Here, under leave of Brutus, and the rest — 

For Brutus is an honorable man; 

So are they all, all honorable men — 

Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. 

He was my friend, faithful and just to me: 

But Brutus says he was ambitious; 

And Brutus is an honorable man. 

He hath brought many captives home to Rome, 

Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill: 

Did this in Cresar seem ambitious? 

When that the poor hath cried, C?esar hath wept: 

Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: 

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; 

And Brutus is an honorable man. 

You all did see, that on the Lupercal, 

I thrice presented him a kingly crown. 

Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambition? 

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious; 

And, sure, he is an honorable man. 

I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke, 

But here I am to speak what I do know. 

You all did love him once, not without cause; 

What cause withholds you then to mourn for him ; 

O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts. 

And men have lost their reason ! Bear with me; 

My heart is in the coffin there with Caesar, 

And I must pause till it come back to me. 

****** 
But yesterday, the word of Ccesar might 
Have stood against the world: now lies he there, 
And none so poor to do him reverence. 

masters ! if I were disposed to stir 
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 

1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 
Who, you all know, are honorable men: 



141 



I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose 

To wrong the dead, to wrong myself, and you, 

Than I will wrong such honorable men. 

But here 's a parchment, with the seal of Cresar, 

I found it in his closet, 't is liis will : 

Let but the commons hear this testament — 

Which, pardon me, I do not mean to lead— 

And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's wounds 

And dip their napkins in his sacred blood; 

Yea, beg a hair of him for memory, 

And, dying, mention it within their wills. 

Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy. 

Unto their issue — 

ist at. We *11 hear the will: read it, Mark Antony — 

Citizens. The will, the will; we will hear Caesar's will. 

Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I must not read it; 
It is not meet you know how Caesar lov'd you — 
You are not wood, you are not stones, but men; 
And, being men, hearing the will of Cresar, 
It will inflame you, it will make you mad: 
'Tis good you know not that you are his heirs; 
For, if you should , O, what would come of it ! 

4th Cit. Read the will; we '11 hear it, Antony; 
You shall read us the will, — Caesar's will. 

Ant. Will you be patient ? Will you stay a while ? 
I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it. 
I fear I wrong the honorable men, 
Whose daggers have stabb'd Ctesar; I do fear it. 

4th Cit. They were traitors: honorable men ! 

Citizens. The will ! the testament ! 

2d Cit. They were villains, murderers: the will! 
Read the will ! 

Ant. You will compel me then to read the will ? 
Then make a ring about the corse of Caesar, 
And let me show you him that made the will. 
Shall I descend ? and will you give me leave ? 

Citizens. Come down. 

2d Cit. Descend. \^He comes down from the pulpit. 

Ant. If you have tears, prepare to shed them now. 
You all do know this mantle : I remember 
The first time ever Caesar put it on; 
'Twas on a summer's evening in his tent; 
That day he overcame the Nervii: — 
Look ! in this place ran Cassius' dagger through: 
See what a rent the envious Casca made: 
Through this the well-beloved Brutus stabb'd. 



142 



And as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, 

Mark how the blood of Caesar followed it; 

As rushing out of doors, to be resolv'd 

If Brutus so unkindly knock' d, or no: 

For Brutus, as you know, was Caesar's angel. ^ 

Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar lov'd him ! 

This was the most unkindest cut of all ; 

For when the noble Caesar saw him stab. 

Ingratitude, more strong than traitors' arms 

Quite vanquish'd him: then burst his mighty heart; 

And, in his mantle muffling up his face. 

Even at the base of Pompey's statua. 

Which all the while ran blood, great Caesar fell. 

O, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! 

Then I, and you, and all of us, fell down, 

Whilst bloody treason flourish'd over us, 

O, now you weep; and, I perceive, you feel 

The dint of pity: these are gracious drops. 

Kind souls, what, weep you, when you but behold 

Our Ccesar's vesture wounded ? Look you here. 

Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors. 

ist Cit. O piteous spectacle ! 

2d Cit. We will be revenged: revenge: about, — seek,— 
burn, — fire, — kill, — slay ! let not a traitor live. 

Ant. Good friends, sweet friends, let me not stir you up 
To such a sudden flood of mutiny. 
They that have done this deed are honorable ; 
What private griefs they have, alas, I know not. 
That made them do it; they are wise and honorable, 
And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 
I come not, friends, to steel away your hearts; 
I am no orator, as Brutus is: 
But, as you know me all, a plain blunt man, 
That love my friend, and that they know full well 
That gave me public leave to speak of him: 
For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth. 
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech, 
To stir men's blood: I only speak right on; 
I tell you that which you yourselves do know; 
Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor dumb mouths, 
And bid them speak for me: but were I Brutus, 
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
In every wound of Caesar, thai should move 
The stones of Rome to ire and mutiny, 



143 

Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 

Are much condemn'd to have an itchmg palm; 

To sell and mart your offices for gold, 

To undeservers. 



What, shall one of us, 
That struck the foremost man of all this world 
But for supporting I'obbers; shall we now 
Contaminate our fingers with base bribes ? 
And sell the mighty space of our large honors, 
For so much trash as may be grasped thus ? 
I had rather be a dog, and bay the moon, 
Than such a Roman. 



Live a thousand years, 
I shall not find myself so apt to die : 
No place will please me so, no mean of death, 
As here by Caesar, and by you cut off, 
The choice and master spirit of this age. 



A lioness hath whelped in the streets; 

And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead 

Fierce fiery warriors fought upon the clouds. 

In ranks, and squadrons, and right form of war. 

Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol : 

The noise of battle hurtled in the air, 

Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan; 

And ghosts did shriek, and squeal about the streets. 

O Cresar ! these things are beyond all use. 

And I do fear them. 

Ccvs. What can be avoided, 
Whose end is proposed by the mighty gods ? 



But I am constant as the northern star, 

Of whose true-fix'd, and resting quality. 

There is no fellow in the firmament. 

The skies are painted with unnumber'd sparks. 

They are all fire, and every one doth shine; 

But there 's but one in all doth hold his place. 



144 

I grant, I am a woman ; but, withal, 
A woman that lord Brutus took to wife : 
I grant, I am a woman; but, withal, 
A woman well-reputed ; Cato's daughter. 
Think you, I am no stronger than my sex, 
Being so father'd, and so husbanded ? 



Therefore 't is meet 
That noble minds keep ever with their likes 
For who so firm, that cannot be seduced ? 



constancy, be strong upon my side ! 

Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and tongue ? 

1 have a man's mind, but a woman's might. 
How hard it is for women to keep counsel ! — 



Here will I stand, till Caesar pass along. 
And as a suitor will I give him this. 
My heart laments, that virtue cannot live 
Out of the teeth of emulation. 



Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time : 

But men may construe things after their fashion, 

Clean from the purpose of the things themselves. 



It is the part of men to fear and tremble, 
When the most mighty gods, by tokens, send 
Such dreadful heralds to astonish us. 



Let me have men about me that are fat; 
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights 
Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look : 
He thinks too much : such men are dangerous. 



When beggars die, there are no comets seen; 

The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes. 



I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes; when they are in great 
danger, I re-cover them. 



IVttig li 



ear* 



Art is long and time is fleeting, 

And our hearts though stout and brave, 

Still, like muffled drums are beating 
Funeral marches to the grave. 

Longfellow. 



Seals for Sealing Wax. 

Seals for Sealing Wax for closing envelopes, engraved 
with Coats-of-arms, Crests, Monograms, Initials or de- 
signs, in an unequaled style and cut. Elegant Seals or 
those of plain style furnished to please the purchasers. 



Awake, 
My fairest, my espoused, my latest found, 
Heaven's last best gift, my ever new delight ! 

Milton. 



Icing ISiFflF« 



A father's curse on his child. 

Hear, nature, hear; 
Dear goddess, hear ! Suspend thy purpose, if 
Thou didst intend to make this creature fruitful ! 
Into her womb convey sterility ! 
Dry up in her the organs of increase; 
And from her derogate body never spring 
A babe to honor her ! If she must teem. 
Create her child of spleen; that it may live, 
And be a thwart disnatured torment to her ! 
Let it stamp wrinkles on her brow of youth ; 
With cadent tears fret channels in her cheeks; 
Turn all her mother's pains and benefits 
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel 
How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 
To have a thankless child. 



Ingratitude ! thou marble -hearted fiend, 

More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a child, 

Than the sea-monster ! 



Patience ana sorrow strove 
Who should express her goodliest. You have seen 
Sunshine and rain at once ; her smiles and tears 
Were like a better day: those happy smiles, 
That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to know 
What guests were in her eyes; which parted thence, 
As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. In brief, sorrow 
Would be a rarity most beloved, if all 
Could so become it. 



148 



O, sir, to wilful men, 
The injuries, that they themselves procure, 
Must be their schoolmasters. 



The usurer hangs the cozener. 
Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear; 
Robes and furr'd gov^^ns hide all. Plate sin with gold, 
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks; 
Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it. 
None does offend, none, I say, none; I '11 able 'em: 
Take that of me, my friend, who have the power 
To seal the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes; 
And, like a scurvy politician, seem 
To see the things thou dost not. 



Whilst I was big in clamor, came there a man. 
Who having seen me in my worst estate, 
Shunn'd my abhorr'd society; but then, finding 
Who 'twas that so endured, with his strong arms 
He fasten 'd on my neck, and bellow'd out 
As he 'd burst heaven. 



Howl, howl, howl, howl ! O, you are men of stones; 

Had I your tongues and eyes, I 'd use them so 

That heaven's vault should crack. O, she is gone for ever ! — 

I know when one is dead, and when one lives; 

She 's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass; 

If that her breath will mist or stain the stone. 

Why, then she lives. 

* * * * * * 

This feather stirs ; she lives ! if it be so. 
It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows 
That ever I have felt. 



LEAR DYING. 



And my poor fool is hang'd ! No, no, no life ! 

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life, 

And thou no breath at all ? O, thou wilt come no more, 

Never, never, never, never, never ! 



Macf^etft. 



Come forth, old man, — thy daughter's side 

Is now the fitting place for thee: 
When time has quell'd the oak's bold pride. 
The youthful tendril yet may hide 

The ruins of the parent tree. 

Scott. 



Anniversary "Weddings. 

The correct thing for Anniversary Weddings— Golden, 
Silver, Tin, Crystal, Wooden, &c.,"we make specialties. 
Our experience is of great value, and our works on 
Social Etiquette to parties requiring information will 
be found invaluable. Particulars will be cheerfully im- 
parted to inquirers, without charge or obligation. 



Borne on the swift, tho' silent wings of time, 
Old age comes on apace, to ravage all the clime. 

Beattie. 



M^Ml 



MACBETH S IRRESOLUTION, 

If it were done, when 'tis done, then 't were well 
It were done quickly: if the assassination 
Could trammel upon the consequence, and calch, 
With his surcease, success; that but this blow 
Might be the be-all and the end-all here. 
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time, 
We 'd jump the life to come. But, in the^e cases. 
We still have judgment here; that we but teach 
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, return 
To plague the inventor: this even-handed justice 
Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice 
To our own lips. He 's here in double trust: 
First, as I am his kinsman and his subject, 
Strong both against the deed; then, as his host. 
Who should against his murderer shut the door, 
Not bear the knife myself. Beside, this Duncan 
Hath borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
So clear in his great office, that his virtues 
Will plead like angels, trumpet-tungued against 
The deep damnation of his taking off: 
And pity, like a naked new-born babe. 
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed 
Upon the sightless couriers of the air. 
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye. 
That tears shall brown the wind. I have no spur 
To prick the sides of my intent, but only 
Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself 
And falls on the other. 



I dare do all that may become a man; 
Who dares do more, is none. 



152 



Is this a dagger which I see before me, 

The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee; 

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 

Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible 

To feeling as to sight? or art thou but 

A dagger of the mind, a false creation, 

Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? 

I see thee yet, in form as palpable 

As this which now I draw. 

Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going; 

And such an instrument I was to use. 



I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. 
Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell 
That summons thee to heaven, or to hell. 



Me thought I heard a voice cry, Sleep no tnore : 
Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocejit sleep ; 
Sleep, that knits tip the ravell'd s leave of care. 
The death of each day's life, sore labor^ s bath, 
Babn of hurt i7iinds, great nature's second course, 
Chief iioiirisher in lif e'' s feast . 



Macb. We have scotch'd the snake, not kill'd it; 
She '11 close, and be herself; whilst our poor malice 
Remains in dansrer of her former tooth. 



Duncan is in his grave ; 

After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well; 

Treason has done his worst: nor steel, nor poison, 

Malice domestic, foreign levy, nothing 

Can touch him farther. 



I am yet 
Unicnown to woman; never was forsworn: 
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own: 
At no time broke my faith; would not betray 
The devil to his fellow; and delight 
No less in truth than life: my first false speaking 
Was this upon myself. What I am truly. 
Is thine, and my poor country's to command. 



153 



DESPISED OLD AGE. 



I have liv'd long enough : my way of Hfe 

Is fall'n into the sear, the yellow leaf: 

And that which should accompany old age, 

As honor, love, obedience, troops of friends, 

I must not look to have; but, in their stead. 

Curses, not loud, but deep, mouth-honor, breath. 

Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare noto 



DISEASES OF THE MIND INCURABLE. 

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd; 
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow; 
Raze out the written troubles of the brain; 
And, with some sweet oblivious antidote. 
Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of lliat perilous stuff. 
Which weighs uoon the heart ? 



REFLECTIONS ON LIFE, 

To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow. 

Creeps in this petty pace from day to day. 

To the last syllable of recorded time; 

And all our yesterday's have lighted fools 

The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle ! 

Life 's but a walking shadow; a poor player. 

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage. 

And then is heard no more ; it is a tale 

Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury. 

Signifying nothing. 



Sweet remembrancer ! — 
Now, good digestion wait on appetite 
And health on both. 



Come, love and health to all; 
Then I'll sit down. — Give me some wine, fill full: — 
I drink to the general joy of the whole table. 
And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss; 
Would he were here ! to all. and him, we thirst. 
And all to all. 



154 



ENTER THE THREE WITCHES. 



ist Witch. Thrice the brinded cat hath mew'd 
2d Witch. Thrice; and once the hedge-pig whined. 
^d Witch. Harper cries: — 'T is time, 't is time. 
ist Witch. Round about the cauldron go; 

In the poison'd entrails tlirow. — 
Toad, that under coldest stone, 
Days and nights hast thirty-one, 
Swelter'd venom, sleeping got, 
Boil thou first i' the charmed pot ! 
All. Double, double toil and trouble: 

Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble. 
2d Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake. 

In the cauldron boil and bake: 
Eye of newt, and toe of frog. 
Wool of bat and tongue of dog. 
Adder's fork, and blind worm's sting, 
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing. 
For a charm of powerful trouble. 
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. 
All. Double, double toil and trouble ; 

Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble. 
^d Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf; 

Witches, mummy; maw and gulf, 
Of the ravined salt-sea shark ; 
Root of hemlock, digg'd i' the dark; 
Liver of blaspheming Jew; 
Gall of goat, and slips of yew, 
Silver'd in the moon's eclipse; 
Nose of Turk, and Tartar's lips: 
Finger of birth-strangled babe, 
Ditch-delivered by a drab. 
Make the gruel thick and slab: 
Add thereto a tiger's chawdron, 
For the ingredients of our cauldron. 
All. Double, double toil and trouble; 

Fire, burn; and, cauldron, bubble. 
2d Witch. Cool it with a baboon's blood, 

Then the charm is firm and good. 
Hec. O, well done ! I commend your pains; 
And every one shall share i' the gains. 
And now about the cauldron sing, 
Like elves and fairies in a ring, 
Enchanting all that you put in. 



Qtfieffo. 



What is the worst of woes that wait on age ? 
What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow ? 
To view each loved one blotted from life's page, 
And be alone on earth, as I am now. 

Byron. 



In MemoriaiM Cards. 

In Memoriam Cards printed from steel plate or type. 
We, from experience, can please the most fastidious. 
Our facilities are unequaled, and we can furnish them 
with despatch. Samples furnished us, followed with 
care. 



While grace celestial with enliv'ning ray 
Beam'd forth to gild the ev'ning of his day. 

Dr. Harte. 



O^tlk. 



OTHELLO'S DESCRIPTION TO THE SENATE OF HIS WINNING 
THE AFFECTIONS OF DESDEMONA. 

Most potent, grave, and reverend signiors 
My very noble, and approv'd good masters, 
1 hat I have ta'en away this old man's daughter 
It IS most true; true, I have married her- ' 

1 he very head and front of my offending 

A }^ -f If ^"/' "° '^°'"^- R"de am I in my speech 
And httie bless'd with the soft phrase of peace-^ ' 
For since these arms of mine had seven years' pith 
lill now some nme moons wasted, they have us'd ' 
Iheir dearest action m the tented field- 
And little of this great world can I speak, 

AnT.i VP^'v^",' *° ^'^^' °f b^°^l ^n^ battle; 
And therefore little shall I grace my cause 

ill speakmg for myself: yet, by your gracious patience 
I will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver P^^^nce, 

WhS^contJ^tf^"''" f ^r^'' '^'^'^' ^"^g^' ^J^^t charms, 
u tiat conjuration, and what mighty macric 

(For such proceeding I am charg'd withal)' 
1 won his daughter with. 

Her father lov'd me; oft invited me- 
btill question'd me the story of my life 
From year to year; the battles, sieges, fortunes 
That I have pass'd. ' t. > ^ -unes, 

I ran it through, even from my boyish days 

To the very moment that he bade me tell it' 

Wherein I spake of most disastrous chances* 

Of moving accidents, by flood and field ; ' 

Of hair-breadth 'scapes i' th' imminent deadly breach- 

Of being taken by the insolent foe, ^ ' 

And sold to slavery; of my redemption thence, 

And portance m my travel's history. 

1 his to hear, ^ 

Would Desdemona seriously incline- 



.58 



But still the house affairs would draw her thence ; 

Which ever as she could with haste dispatch, 

She 'd come again, and with a greedy ear 

Devour up my discourse: which I observing, 

Took once a pliant hour: and found good means 

To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart, 

That I would all my pilgrimage dilate, 

Whereof by parcels she had something heard, 

But not intenlively. I did consent; 

And oft did beguile her of her tears, 

When I did speak of some distressful stroke 

That my youth suffer'd. My story being done. 

She gave me for my pains a world of sighs: 

She swore, —in faith, 't was strange, 't was passing strange; 

'T was pitiful, 't was wondrous pitiful: 

She wish'd she had not heard it; yet she wish'd 

That heaven had made her such a man: she thank'd me; 

And bade me, if I had a friend that lov'd her, 

I should but teach him how to tell my story. 

And that would woo her. Upon this hint I spake, 

She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd: 

And T lov'd her that she did pity them. 



Good name, in man and woman, dear my lord, 

Is the immediate jewel of their souls; 

Who steels my purse, steels trash: 't is something, nothmg; 

'T was mine, 't is his, and has been slaves to thousands; 

But he that filches from me my good name, 

Robs me of that which not enriches him, 

And makes me poor indeed. 



O curse of marriage. 
That we can call these delicate creatures ours. 
And not their appetites ! I had rather be a toad. 
And live upon the vapor of a dungeon. 
Than keep a corner in the thing I love, 
For other's uses. 



'T is the curse of service; 
Preferment goes by letter and affection. 
Not by the old gradation, where each second 
Stood heir to the first. 



159 

We cannot all be masters, nor all masters 

Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark 

Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave, 

That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, 

Wears out his time, much like his master's ass. 

For naught but provender: and, when he 's old, cashier'd: 

Whip me such honest knaves. Others there are, 

Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty, 

Keep yet their hearts attending on themselves; 

And, throwing but shows of service on their lords, 

Do well thrive by them, and, when they have lin'd their coats, 

Do themselves homage: these fellows have some soul; 

And such a one do I profess myself. 



Excellent wretch ! Perdition catch my soul, 
But I do love thee ! and when I love thee not, 
Chaos is come again. 



Trifles, light as air. 
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong 
As proofs of holy writ. 



O now, for ever. 
Farewell the tranquil mind ! farewell content ! 
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars. 
That make ambition virtue ! O, farewell ! 
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shrill trump. 
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife. 
The royal banner; and all quality, 
Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious war ! 
And, O you mortal engines, whose rude throats 
The immortal Jove's dread clamors counterfeit, 
Farewell ! Othello's occupation 's gone ! 



By the world, 
I think my wife be honest, and think she is not; 
I tliink that thou art just, and think thou art not, 
I '11 have some proof. Her name, that was as fresh 
As Dian's visage, is now begrim'd and black 
As mine own face. — If there be cords or knives 
Poison or fire, or suffocating streams, 
I '11 not endure it. — Would I were satisfied ! 



i6o 



O grace! O heaven defend me ! 
Are you a man ; have you a soul, or sense ? — 
God be wi' you: take mine office. — O wretched fool, 
That liv'st to make thine honesty a vice ! — 

monstrous world ! Take note, take note, O world, 
To be direct and honest is not safe. — 

1 thank you for this profit; and, from hence, 

I 'II love no friend, since love breeds such offence. 

0th. Nay, stay: — thou shouldst be honest. 

lago. I should be wise; for honesty 's a fool, 
And loses that it works for. 



What ! keep a week away ? seven days and nights? 
Eight score eight hours ? and lovers' absent hours, 
More tedious than the dial eight score times ? 
O weary reckoning ! 



Had she been true, 
If heaven would make me such another world 
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite, 
I 'd not have sold her for it. 



Had it pleased heaven 
To try me with affliction; had he rain'd 
All kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare head ; 
Steep'd me in poverty to the very lips; 
Given to captivity me and my utmost hopes; 
I should have found in some part of my soul 
A drop of patience: but, alas ! to make me 
A fixed figure for the time of scorn 
To point his slow unmoving finger at, — 
O! O! 



Where should Othello go } 
Now, how dost thou look now ? O ill-starr'd wench ' 
Pale as thy smock ! when we shall meet at compt 
This look of thine will hurl my soul from heaven. 
And fiends will snatch at it. Cold, cold, my girl ? 
Even like thy chastity. 

O cursed, cursed slave ! Whip me, ye devils, 
From the possession of this heavenly sight ! 
Blow me about in winds, roast me in sulphur ! 
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire ! 
O Desdemona ! Desdemona ! dead ? 
Dead ? O ! O ! O ! 



i6i 



0th. What sense had I of her stolen hours of lust? 
I saw it not, thought it not, it harm'd not me: 
I slept the next night well, was free and merry; 
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips: 
He that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen, 
Let him not know it, and he 's not robb'd at all 



But, I do think it is their husbands' faults, 

If wives do fall: Say, that they slack their duties, 

And pour our treasures into foreign laps; 

Or else break out in peevish jealousies, 

Throwing- restraint upon us; or, say, they strike us. 

Or scant our former having in dispite; 

Why, we have galls; and though we have some grace, 

Yet we have some revenge. Let husbands know 

Their wives have sense like them : they see and smell, 

And have their palates both for sweet and sour. 

As husbands have. What is it that they do, 

When they change us for others ? Is it sport ? 

I think it is; And doth affection breed it ? 

I think it doth; Is 't frailty that thus errs? 

It is so too: And have not we affections ? 

Desires for sport ? and frailty, as men have ? 

Then, let them use us well; else, let them know. 

The ills we do, their ills instruct us to. 

Des. Good night, good night: Heaven me such usage send, 
Not to pick bad from bad ; but, by bad, mend ! 



Poor and content, is rich, and rich enough; 
But riches, fineless, is as poor as winter, 
To him that ever fears he shall be poor — 
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend 
From Jealousy ! 



A maiden never bold; 

Of spirit so slill and quief, that her motion 
Blush'd at herself; and she,— in spite of nature. 
Of years, of country, credit, everything, — 
To fall in love with what she fear'd to look on ! 



l62 



But jealous souls will not be answered so; 
They are not ever jealous for the cause. 
But jealous, for they are jealous: 't is a monster, 
Begot upon itself, born on itself. 



What shall I do to win my lord again ? 

Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of heaven, 

I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel: — 

If e'er my will did trespass 'gainst his love, 

Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed; 

Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, 

Delighted them in any other form; 

Or that I do not yet, and ever did, 

And ever will,^ — though he do shake me off 

To beggarly divorcement, — love him dearly. 

Comfort forswear me ! Unkindness may do much; 

And his unkindness may defeat my life, 

But never taint my love. 



Unreconciled as yet to Heaven and grace, 
If you bethink yourself of any crime, 
Solicit for it straight. 



Othello's speech before his death. 

Soft you; a word or two before you go. 

I have done the state some service, and they know it ! 

No more of that. — I pray you, in your letters, 

When you shall these unlucky deeds relate, 

Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate, 

Nor set down aught in malice: then must you speak 

Of one that lov'd, not wisely, but too well : 

Of one not easily jealous, but, being wrought, 

Perplex'd in the extreme; of one, whose hand, 

Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away. 

Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose subdu'd eyes, 

Albeit unused to the melting mood. 

Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees 

Their medicinal gum. Set you down this; 

And say, besides, — that in Aleppo once, 

Where a malignant and turban'd Turk 

Beat a Venetian, and traduc'd the state, 

I took by the throat the circumcised dog. 

And smote him — thus. [Stabs himself. 



Jvomeo and 
Jttfiei 



This matron, whitened with good works and age, 
Approached the Sabbath of her pilgrimage; 
Her spirit to Himself the Almighty drew, 
Breathed on the Alembic, and exhaled the dew. 



College iMTitatioms. 

COLLEGE COMMITTEES wishing the best materials 
and workmanship, can be supplied at our establish- 
ment, and everything guaranteed as represented, or no 
money will be taken in payment. Our work is execu- 
ted in strict integrity, with no mental reservation, 



Old friends are best. King James us'd to call for his old shoes, 
they were easiest for his feet. 

Selden. 



IBLorapo flnh Jnlipi 



Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs- 
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes- ' 
Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: 
What is It else ? a madness most discreet, 
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. 



True, I talk of dreams; 
Which are the children of an idle brain, 
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy ; 
Which is as thin of substance as the air; 
And more inconstant than the wind, who woos 
Even now the frozen bosom of the north, 
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence. 
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. 



O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright ! 
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night 
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's ear: 
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear ! 
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows 
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows. ' 



O, speak again, bright angel ! for thou art 
As glonous to this night, being o'er my head 
As IS a winged messenger of heaven 
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes 
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him 
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds' 
And sails upon the bosom of the air. 



i66 



With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; 
For stony limits cannot hold love out; 
And what love can do, that dares love attempt, 
Therefore thv kinsmen are no let to me. 



What 's in a name ? that which we call a rose, 
By any other name would smell as sweet; 
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, 
Retain that dear perfection which he owes. 
Without that title. Romeo, doft' thy name; 
And for that name, which is no part of thee, 
Take all myself. 



Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon. 
That monthly changes in her circled orb, 
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. 

Rom. What shall I swear by ? 

Jul. Do not swear at all ; 

Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, 
Which is the god of my idolatry. 
And I '11 believe thee. 



Ro)ii. A thousand times the worse, to want thy light ; 
Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books; 
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks. 



Sweet, good night ! 
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, 
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet, 
Good night, good night; as sweet repose and rest 
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast ! 



Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good night, indeed. 
If that thy bent of love be honorable, 
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow 
By one that I '11 procure to come to thee. 
Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the rite; 
And all my fortunes at thy foot I '11 lay. 
And follow thee, my lord, throughout the world. 



167 

O, gentle Romeo, 
If ihou dost love, pronounce it faithfully: 
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won, 
I '11 frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay, 
So thou wilt woo; but, else, not for the world. 
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond; 
And therefore thou may'st think my 'havior light; 
But, trust me, gentleman, I '11 prove more true 
Than those that have more cunning to be strange. 



Sweet, so would 1: 
Vet I should kill thee with much cherishing. 
Good night, good night ! parting in such sweet sorrow, 
That I shall say — good night, till it be morrow. 



These violent delights have violent ends, 

And in their triumph die: like fire and powder, 

Which, as they kiss, consume. 



Hist ! Romeo, hist ! O, for a falconer's voice. 
To lure this tassel-gentle back again ! 
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud ; 
Else would I tear the cave where echo lies. 
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine 
With repetition of my Romeo's name. 



Love's heralds should be thoughts. 
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams. 
Driving back shadows over low'ring hills: 
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love, 
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings. 



i68 



Hang thee, young baggage ! disobedient wretch ! 

I tell thee what,— get thee to church o' Thursday, 

Or never after look me in the face : 

Speak n-ot, reply not , do not answer me ; 

My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us bless'd, 

That God had lent us but this only child; 

But now I see this one is one too much, 

And that we have a curse in having her: 

Out on her, hilding ! 



'T is torture, and not mercy: heaven is here, 
Where Juliet lives; and every cat, and dog, 
And little mouse, every unwortliy thing. 
Live here in heaven, and may look on her, 
But Romeo may not. More validity. 
More honorable state, more courtship lives 
In carrion flies, than Romeo: they may seize 
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand, 
And steel immortal blessing from her lips; 
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty. 
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin; 
But Romeo may not; lie is banished: 
Flies may do this, when I from this must fly, 
They are free men, but I am banished. 



Still my care hath been 

To have her match'd: and having now provided 

A gentleman of noble parentage, 

Of fair demesnes, youthful and nobly train'd, 

Stuft'd (as they say) with honorable parts, 

Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man, — 

And then to have a wretched puling fool, 

A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender, 

To answer—" I '11 not wed,"—" I cannot love," — 

" I am too young,"—" I pray you, pardon me." 



It was the lark, the herald of the morn. 

No nightingale : look, love, what envious streaks 

Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: 

Night's candles areburnt out, and jocund day 

Stands liptoe on the misty mountain tops; 

I must be gone and live, or stay and die. 



169 

Give me my Romeo : and, when he shall die, 
Take him , and cut him out in little stars, 
And he will make the face of heaven so fine, 
That all the world will be in love with night, 
And pay no worship to the garish sun. 



I dreamt, my lady came and found me dead, 

(Strange dream ! that gives a dead man leave to think). 

And breathed such life with kisses in my lips. 

That I revived, and was an emperor. 

Ah me ! how sweet is love itself possess'd, 

When but love's shadows are so rich in joy ! 



For though fond nature bids us all lament, 
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. 



Conceit, more rich in matter than in words. 
Brags of his substance, not of ornament : 
They are but beggars that can count their worth; 
But my true love is grown to such excess, 
I cannot sum up half my sum of wealth. 



Blister'd be thy tongue, 

For such a wish ! he was not born to shame: 

Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit; 

For 't is a throne where honor may be crown'd 

Sole monarch of the universal earth. 



My only love sprang from my only hate ! 
Too early seen unknown , and known too late, 
Prodigious birth of love it is to me. 
That I must love a loathed enemy. 



Gentlemen, welcome ! ladies, that have their toes 
Unplagued with corns, will have a bout with you. — 
Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all 
Will now deny to dance ? she, that makes damty, she, 
I '11 swear hath corns: Am I come near you now ? 



The sweetest honey 
Is loathsome in its own deliciousness, 
And in the taste confounds the appetite: 
Therefore, love moderately; long love doth so; 
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. 



Here comes the lady ; O, so light a foot 
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint: 
A lover may bestride the gossamers. 
That idle in the wanton summer air, 
An I yet not fall ; so light is vanity. 



O, I have bought the mansion of a love, 
But not possess' d it; and though I am sold. 
Not yet enjoy'd: So tedious is this day, 
As is the night before some festival 
To an impatient child, that hath new robes, 
And may not wear them. 



ROMEO'S LAST SPEECH OVER JULIET IX THE TOMB. 

O, my love ! my wife ! 
Death that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath. 
Hath had no power yet upon thy l^eauty: 

i^H: ******* 

Ah, dear Juliet, 
Why art thou yet so fair? Shall I believe 
That unsubstantial death is amorous; 
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps 
Thee here in dark to be his paramour ? 
For fear of that, I will still stay with thee; 

********* 

Eyes, look your last 
Arms, take your last embrace ! and lips, O you 
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss 
A dateless bargain to engrossing death ! — 
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide ! 
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on 
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark ! 
Here 's to my love ! [Drinks.] O, true Apothecary ! 
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die. 



MmoM of 

am 



I can no more believe old Homer blind , 
Than those who say the sun hath never shined ; 
The age wherein he lived was dark; but He 
Could not want sight who taught the world to see. 

Denham. 



Masonic Work. 

TH^ GRAND LODGE OF MASONS' fine work was exe- 
cuted by us. Masonic Lodges and the various depart- 
ments of masonry wishing emblematical and fine work 
are referred to us. 

PAI^ESXIXB COMMAIVOBRY. 

The Palestine Commandery Invitations, Cards, and 
Orders of Dances, pronounced by everybody to be of 
superior excellence in every particular, was executed 
by us. 



Who does the best his circumstance allows, 
Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more. 

Dr. Young. 



^imon of 3£]^|Fns. 



They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, 

Tliat now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot 

Do what they would ; are sorry — you are honorable , — 

But yet they could have wish'd — they know not — but 

Something hath been amiss — a noble nature 

May catch a wrench — would all were well— 't is pity — 

And so, intending other serious matters. 

After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions. 

With certain half-caps, and cold-moving nods. 

They froze me into silence. 



AGAINST DUELLING. 

Your words have took such pains, as if they labor'd 

To bring manslaughter into form, and set quarrelling 

Upon the head of valor; which, indeed, 

Is valor misbegot, and came into the world 

When sects and factions were but newly born: 

He 's truly valiant that can wisely suffer 

The worst that man can breathe; and make his wrongs 

His outsides; wear them like his raiment, carelessly; 

And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart, 

To bring it into danger. 



As we do turn our backs 
From our companion, thrown into his grave: 
So his familiars to his buried fortunes 
Slink all away; leave their false vows with him, 
Like empty purses pick'd: and his poor self 
A dedicated beggar to the air. 
With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty. 
Walks, like contempt, alone. 



174 

The painting is almost the natural man; 
For since dishonor traffics with man's nature, 
He is but outside: these pencil'd figures are 
Even such as they give out. 



Gold ? yellow, glittering, precious gold ? No, gods, 
I am no idle votarist. 

********* 

What this, you gods? Why this 
Will lug your priests and servants from your sides; 
Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads: 
This yellow slave 

Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs'd; 
Make the hoar leprosy adored; place thieves, 
And give them title, knee and approbation 
With senators on the bench. 

*****^*** 

I '11 example you with thievery ; 
The sun 's a thief, and with his great attraction 
Robs the vast sea: the moon 's an arrant thief, 
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun: 
The sea 's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves 
The moon into salt tears: the earth 's a thief, 
That feeds and breeds by a composture stolen 
From general excrement: each thing 's a thief; 
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power 
Have uncheck'd theft. 

Nay, my lords, ceremony 

Was but devised at first, to set a gloss 

On faint deeds, hollow welcomes. 

Recanting goodness, sorry ere 't is shewn; 

But where there is true friendship, there needs none. 

Pray, sit ; more welcome are ye to my fortunes, 

Than my fortunes to me. 



What an alteration of honor has 

Desperate want made ! 

What viler thing upon the earth, than friends, 

Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends ! 

How rarely does it meet with this time's guise, 

When man was wish'd to love his enemies: 

Grant, I may ever love, and rather woo 

Those that would mischief me, than tliose that do ! 



wludromctts* 



'T is mighty easy o'er a glass of wine 
On vain refinements vainly to refine, 
To laugh at poverty in plenty's reign, 
To boast of apathy when out of pain. 

Churchill. 



Resolutions Illuminated and 
Kng^rossed. 

THE COTTON EXPOSITION RESOLUTIONS, presented 
to the Hon. H. I. Kimball, received great commenda- 
tions for its appropriate designs, its excellence of illum- 
ination and elegance of finish ; we had the honor of 
its execution, as well as that of the beautifully en- 
graved Invitations and Cards of Admittance to the 
Opening and Closing of the Exposition. 

RESOIvXJXIOXS EI^iGROSSEO. 

Parties wishing superior work, artistically designed and 
executed, can be accommodated at our establishment. 



Is this a birth-day ? 't is alas ! too clear, 
'T is but the funeral of the former year. 

Pope. 



W\h% ^nbFonirns. 



Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? 
Draw near them then in being merciful: 
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge. 



INVITATION TO LOVE. 

The birds chant melody on every bush ; 

The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun , 

The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, 

And make a chequered shadow on the ground: 

Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, 

And — whilst the babbling echo mocks the hounds. 

Replying shrilly to the well tuned horns. 

As if a double hunt were heard at once — 

Let us sit down and mark their yelling noise: 

And, after conflict, such as was supposed 

The wandering prince and Dido once enjoy 'd, 

When with a happy storm they were surprised, 

And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave,— 

We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, 

Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber; 

Whiles hounds, and horns, and sweet melodious birds 

Be unto us, as is a nurse's song 

Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep. 



O, that delightful engine of her thoughts. 
That blabb'd them with such pleasing eloquence, 
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage: 
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung 
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear ! 



When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears 
Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey dew 
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd. 



178 

For* now I stand as one upon a rock, 
Environ'd with a wilderness of sea; 
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by wave, 
Expecting ever when some envious surge 
Will, in his brinish bowels, swallow him. 



She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; 
She is a woman, therefore may be won; 
She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved. 
What, man ! more water glideth by the mill 
Than wots the miller of. 



Romans,— friends, followers, favorers of my right, — 

If ever Bassianus, Caesar's son, 

Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, 

Keep then this passage to the Capitol, 

And suffer not dishonor to approach 

The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate, 

To justice, continence, and nobility: 

But let desert in pure election shine. 



O reverend tribunes ! gentle aged men ! 
Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death; 
And let me say that never wept before, 
My tears are now prevailing orators. 



O, calm thee, gentle lord ! although I know. 
There is enough written upon this earth. 
To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts, 
And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. 
My lord, kneel down with me; Lavinia, kneel; 
And kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope; 
And swear with me, — as with the woful fere. 
And father, of that chaste, dishonor'd dame, 
Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece's rape, — 
That we will prosecute, by good advice. 
Mortal revenge upon these traitorous Goths, 
And see their blood, or die witli this reproach. 



Xrotfiis and 




a^ 



If blush thou must, then blush thou through 

A lawn; that thou may'st look 
As purest pearls, or pebbles do, 

When peeping through a brook. 



Herrick. 



Commercial "Work:, 

MERCHANTS, HOTEL PROPRIETORS, DOCTORS, 
DIVINES AND STOCK COMPANIES, wishing fine Sta- 
tionery, rich designs, or novel advertising announce- 
ments, should call upon us. 

HON. HENRY HILTON favored us with an order 
consisting of eight steel plates from which 50,000 
books were printed and gratuitously distributed, enti- 
tled, " Hotels of Saratoga Springs, New York '^ity, and 
Garden City," giving steel plate views of the Hotels of 
the A. T. Stewart Estate, Judge Hilton's Villa in Wood- 
lawn Park, and Windsor Hotel at Saratoga Springs. 
The books are gems of engraving, and the printed 
matter of great interest. 

Parties desiring fine work are invited to visit our 
establishment. 



His rage, not his love, in that frenzy is shown. 
And the blast that blows loudest is soon overblown. 

Smollett. 



^Foilns flnb QpFSsiba. 



SUCCESS NOT EQUAL TO OUR HOPES. 

The ample proposition, that hope makes 

In all designs begun on earth below, 

Fails in the promised largeness: checks and disasters 

Grow ill the veins of actions highest rear"d: 

As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap, 

Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain 

Tortive and errant from his course of growth. 



I ask, that I might waken reverence, 
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush 
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes 
The youthful Phoebus. 

The wound of peace is surety, 
Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd 
The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches 
To the bottom of the worst. 



For pleasure and revenge 
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice 
Of any true decision. 



'T is certain, greatness, once fallen out wiih fortune, 
Must fall out with men too. What the declined is, 
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others. 
As feel m his own fall : for men, like butterflies, 
Show not their mealy wings, but to the summer; 
And not a man, for being simply man. 



Pride liath no other glass 
To show itself, luit pride; for supple knees 
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees. 



1^2 



Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his back, 

Wherein he puts alms for oblivion, 

A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: 

Those scraps are good deeds past; which are devour'd 

As fast as they are made, forgot as soon 

As done: perseverance, dear my lord, 

Keeps honor bright: to have done, is to hang 

Quite out of fashion, like a rusty mail 

In monumental mockery. 



Welcome ever smiles 
And farewell goes out sighing. O, let not virtue seek 
Remuneration for the thing it was; 
For beauty, wit, 

High birth, vigor of bone, desert in service, 
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all 
To envious and calumniating time. 
One touch of nature makes the whole world kin, — 
That all, with one consent, praise new-born gawds, 
Though they are made and moulded of things past. 



Mine honor keeps the weather of my fate: 
Life every man holds dear; but the dear man 
Holds honor far more precious dear than life. 



For the love of all the gods. 
Let 's leave the hermit pity with our mother: 
And when we have our armors buckled on, 
The venom'd vengeance ride upon our swords. 



I am giddy; expectation whirls me round. 
Th' imaginary relish is so sweet 
That it enchants my sense: what will it be, 
When that the wat'ry palate tastes indeed 
Love 's thrice -repured nectar ? death, I fear me, 
Swooning destruction ; or some joy too fine, 
Too subtle -potent, tun'd too sharp in sweetness, 
For the capacity of my ruder powers ! 
I fear it much; and I do fear besides. 
That I shall loose distinction in my joys; 
As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps 
The enemy flying. 



toadies 
ward Il.tti^uette 



DEMPgEY & KARROLL, 

ARTISTIC BXGRAVERS & STATIONERS. 



Invitations* 



46 East Fourteenth Street, {Unm Square South,) 

Near Broadway. 



CARD ETIQUETTE FOR LADIES. 



" (7se is the judge, the laiv and rule of speech." 

— Roscommon. 



LEAVING CARDS. 

Leaving cards is one of the most important of social 
observances, as it is the groundwork or nucleus in society 
of all acquaintanceship; it is the first step towards form- 
ing a circle of acquaintances, and the neglect of this so- 
cial duty, or the improper performance of it, or the non- 
fulfillment of its prescribed rules, would result in the 
probable loss of desired acquaintanceship, or the risk of 
beins: characterized as ill-bred. 



AUTHORIZED CODE OF CARD-LEAVING FOR LADIES. 

The duty of ''leaving cards " principally devolves upon 
the mistress of the house : 

The wife leaves cards for husband as well as for herself. 

The daughter leaves cards for her father. 

The niece leaves cards for her uncle. 

In every case the mistress of the house performs this 
duty for the master of the house in the circle in which 



they jointly move. It is not etiquette for ladies, either 
married or single, to leave cards on bachelors, except 
after an entertainment given by a bachelor, at which 
they were present. 

CARD ETIQUETTE BETWEEN LADIES. 

Between ladies the etiquette of card leaving is very 
strictly followed, and punctiliously observed in all its 
laws. 

VISITING CARDS MUST BE LEFT IN PERSON. 

Visiting cards must be left in person; they should never 
be sent hy post; it is a great breach of etiquette to do so 
under any circumstances. 

HOURS FOR CARD-LEAVING AND CALLING. 

. The most fashionable hours for leaving cards is between 
three and five o'clock, half past two and six being the 
earliest as well as the latest possible hours. 

ENGRAVING FOR VISITING CARDS AND CARDS. 

The engraving should be in script, clear and hand- 
somely cut on copper-plate, and printed on bristol card 
board of correct size — which distinguishes it. Mr. and 
Mrs. cards are of the largest size. ]\Irs., second. Miss 
(when used) third in size. The name and address should 
be on cards — nanie in centre of card, address in right-hand 
corner, and reception-day left-hand corner, as : 

Mrs. Charles Smitherton, 
Wednesdays. i lOO Fifth Avenue. 



5 

A married lady would never use her christian name on 
a card, but would use her husband's christian name if his 
father or elder brother were living. 

USING CARDS MRS. SMITHERTON. 

The elder branch of a family use cards with Mrs. , 



all others the christian name is used before the surname. 
When Ml', and Mrs. cards are used, a lady and gentle- 
man would still require separate cards of their own. 

YOUNG ladies' CARDS. 

It is not etiquette for young ladies to have visiting cards 
of their own; it would be considered very bad style were 
they to use them. (We are speaking of strict etiquette in 
London society, where young ladies are expected to be 
and are accustomed to a chaperon when going out into 
society). Their names are always printed beneath that of 
their mother on her card, either, 

Mrs. Smttherlon, 
Miss Smitherton. 

iioo Fifth Aveftue. 
or, when more than one daughter, 

Mrs. S?tn/herlon, 
The Misses Smithertoti, 

I lOO Fifth Avenue. 



with reception day in left-hand corner, if used. It would 
be a solecism were the prefix of ''Miss" omitted if a 
young lady's christian name was used on a card. In 
case of their being no mother living, the daughter's name 
would be printed beneath that of her father, on the usual 
lady's visiting card, but 7iever on the smaller cards used 
by gentlemen. The same rule (both names on same 
card) would apply to a brother and sister residing alone. 

WHEN Miss Smitherion is used. 

Maiden ladies of a certain age would have visiting cards 
of their own. 

« 

NUMBER OF CARDS TO LEAVE WHEN CALLING. 

The following is correct and sensible in the number of 
cards to leave when calling : — One card for all the members 
of a family cannot with propriety be left when calling — 
more than an invitation to dinner, party or reception can 
be sent to include all the family. Special invitations are 
expected and must be extended and separate cards must 
be left for each member of the family as a courtesy, and 
showing they were remembered — it is a solecism to do 
otherwise. 

MRS. S AT HOME, WHEN CALLING. 

Gentlemen seldom accompany their wives on these 
occasions. If a lady is driving when she makes her calls 
her man-servant would inquire if the mistress of the 
house was "at home." If ''at home,'' the lady calling, 



on leaving the house, would leave Iwo of husband's cards 
on the hall table in a conspicuous place, or hand them 
in the hall to the man-servant, one card for the master and 
one for the mistress of the house. She would not leave 
one of her own cards, having seen the lady of the house. 
A lady must on no account give her visiting card to the 
servant when the mistress of the house is at ho?ne, it would 
be vulgarism to do so. If the servant does not know 
the visitor's name, he would say to the visitor,' "what 
name, if you please, ma'am .''" the servant would precede 
the visitor to the drawing-room and announce Mrs. A . 

MRS. S NOT AT HOME, WHEN CALLING. 

If "not at home," the lady calling would hand the 
servant three cards, one of her own, and two of her hus- 
band's : but if a Mr. & INIrs. card, then ^;/^of her husband s 
would be required ; her card would be left for the mistress 
of the house ; a lady leaves a card for a lady only ; while 
a gentleman leaves a card for both husband and wife. 
The man-ser\'ant of the lady calling would hand the cards 
to the servant answering the door without remark. If a 
lady was walking when she left her cards, or paid her 
call, she would repeat the same formula. 

IF MERELY LEAVING CARDS. 

If with carriage, she would hand three cards to her 

servant saying, " for Mrs. ,'' and he would repeat, 

"for ]\Irs. '' to the man-servant answering the door. 

If walking, same formula. Mentioning the name insures 
leaving cards at the right address. 



8 



A LADY CALLING ACCOMPANIED BY HER HUSBAND, 

and the lady being at home, the husband would leave one 
of his cards for the master of the house, the only card 
which would be left. If the master of the house was also 
at home, then 710 cards would be left. 

CALLING WHERE THERE IS A DAUGHTER OR DAUGHTERS. 

If there was a daughter, or daughters, the lady call- 
ing would leave a separate card for the daughters. She 
would not leave her husband's cards for the daughters. 

TURNING DOWN THE CORNER OF VISITING CARD 

signifies that the ladies of the family, as well as the 
hostess, are included in the call — turning down the end 
of a card signifies same as the corner. 

CALLING WHERE THERE ARE SONS. 

The lady calling would leave her husbands cards, or 
card, for them^. She would not leave her cards for sons. 

WHEN NO CARDS ARE LEFT. 

No cards are left on those members of a family who are 
at home when a call is made. 

A YOUNG LADY CALLING ALONE. 

If a young lady was leaving cards unaccompanied by 
either father, mother, or her chaperon, she would leave 
her mother's card on which her own name was also printed, 



.and draw a pencil through her mother's name, thus inti- 
mating that her mother was not with her on this occasion. 

A CARD FOR A CARD, A CALL FOR A CALL. 

Persons moving in the same spMj-e, either leave cards or 
call, according as they intend to be ceremonious or 
friendly, and the return visits must be paid in like man- 
ner — a card for a card, a call for a call. 

WRITING ON VISITING CARDS. 

The name of the lady or gendeman for whom the 
cards are intended must never be w?'iiten on the card left at 
the house; it would be a solecism to do this. The only 
case in which it should be done would be when cards are 
left for a lady or gentleman staying at a crowded hotel, 
when, to save confusion, their names might be written on 
the card. For Mr. and Mrs. S. 

TIME FOR RETURNING CALLS, OR CARDS. 

Cards should always be returned within a week, if pos- 
sible, or ten days at the latest, after they have been left ; 
within a week would be more courteous. Care must be 
taken to return the "calls" or "cards" according to the 
etiquette observed by the person making the call or leav- 
ing the card ; that is to say, that a "call" mijst not be 
returned by a card only, or a "card"' by a '^ call."' This 
is a point ladies are very punctilious about, as the ' ' call " 
or "card" signifies the intimacy desired, A person 
holding a higher social position can return a " card " by 
a "call," and it would be deemed a compliment; but if a 



tc 

h.dy was to call upon an acquaintance of higher social 
position than herself, who had only left a card for her, it 
would be deemed a breach of etiquette. 

WHO SHOULD CALL FIRST IN TOWN, 

Some ladies labor under the mistake of supposing that 
their acquaintances should first call upon them on their ar- 
rival in town, but common sense would point to the con- 
trary, even if there were no etiquette in the matter. As 
friends cannot be supposed to guess of )our arrival, they 
therefore require to be officially informed of it by means 
of visiting cards being left upon them. Until you an- 
nounce yourself you are supposed to be "not at home." 

\ 

WHEN CARDS SHOULD BE LEFT. 

Visiting cards should be left after every entertainment 
by those who have been invited, whether they have ac- 
cepted the invitation or not, and they should be left the 
day after the entertainment, if possible, but certainly 
within a week. By entertainment is meant dinners, 
balls, "at homes," private theatricals, amateur concerts, 
garden parties, &c. Cards and an inquiry if the hostess 
is "at home" should be made after a dinner entertain- 
ment ; on the other occasions cards only are left. 

WHEN CARDS CANNOT BE LEFT. 

A lady cannot leave cards on another lady to whom 
she has but recently been introduced, either at a dinner- 
party or five-o clock-tea. She must meet her several times 
in society, and feel sure that her acquaintance is desired 



tl 



before venturing to leave cards. If either of the ladies 
express a wish to further the acquaintance by asking the 
other to call upon her, the suggestion would come from 
the lady of highest social position ; if equal, it is imma- 
terial as to which first makes the suggestion. 

CALLING UPON NEW " COMEI^S. " 

The custom of residents calling upon new comers is 
entirely confined to country society, and is not done 
indiscriminately, but is confined to individual status in 
society and to class. In the country the residents are 
the first to leave cards on the new comers. This they do 
after having duly ascertained the position which the new 
comers occupies in society. If the resident does not care 
to continue the acquaintance after the first meeting, it will 
be discontinued by not leaving cards or by not calling 
again; ^nd \^ \.\\q new comers felt disinclined to continue 
the acquaintance they would return the calls by leaving 
cards onlv. 

CARDS TO INQUIRE. 

Cards to inquire after friends during their illness must 
be left in person and not sent by post. On a lady's 
visiting card must be written, above the printed name, "to 
inquire ; *' and nothing else should be added to these 
words. 

RETURNING THANKS FOR INQUIRIES. 

If the person inquired after was sufficiently recovered 
to return thanks in person, the usual visiting card, with 
''return thanks for kind inquiries" written above the 



li 



printed name, is the usual mode of returning thanks and is 
all-sufficient for the purpose. 

' ' NOT AT HOME. " 

' ' Not at home " is the understood formula expressive 
of not wishing to see visitors. ''Not at home" is not 
intended to imply an untruth, but rather to signify that 
for some reason or reasons it is not desirable to see visitors ; 
and as it would be impossible to explain to acquaint- 
ances the why and wherefore of the inconvenience — the 
formula of "not at home" is all-sufficient explanation, 
provided always that the servant is able to give a direct 
answer at once of "not at home." The mistress of a 
house should be especially careful tc let her servant know, 
before the calling hours, whether she intends to be "at 
home " to receive visitors or not. In order to have time 
to themselves, ladies have their regular reception days, 
which, being engraved on their cards, announces the fact, 
and on all other days (except to intimate friends) they 
are "not at home." 

VISITING LIST BOOK, 

A lady having even a moderate acquaintance should 
have a visiting book in which to enter the names of her 
acquaintances, addresses, and note calls made, and calls 
due. In sending invitations for parties, weddings, or 
entertainments, it is invaluable. Messrs. Dempsey & 
Carroll have an admirably arranged book especially for 
this object. 



ward Cttc|tiQtte 



TO OUR PATROKS 

WHOSE KIND FAVORS HAYE ENSURED OUR SUCCESS 
WE INSCRIBE THIS YOLUHE. 



There is a tide in the affairs of men, 

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. 

Omitted, all the voyage of their life 

Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. 

On such a full sea are we now afloat ; 

And we must take the current when it serves. 

Or lose our ventures. 

Shakesi'ERE. — ynlius Ctesar. 



Again "we present our compliments to our customers 
'yyith thanks for their continued favors, and our conse- 
quent grand success, "which is unequaled in the history 
of any Stationery and engraving estahlishment in this or 
any other country. 

I can no other answer make but thanks, 
And thanks ; and ever oft good turns 
Are shuffled off with such uncurrent pay. 

SHAKESPEr.E. 

OUR ESTABLISHMEKT is now the largest devoted 
strictly to our line of business, and we produce the finest 
vrork and hest material in the vrorld, at Ici-ver prices than 
any other house. V7e execute our own vrork and defy 
competition. Please visit our ^Mvorkrooms, for pleasure and 
information. 

Your Obedient Servants, 

DEMPSEY & CARROLL, 

Union Square South, Art Stationers and Engravers. 

Hear Broadvray. 



BACHELORS' CARD ETIQOETTE. 



POLITENESS. — There is no policy like politeness: and a good manner is 
the best thing in the world, either to get one a good name or to supply the 
want oy it. 

BULWER LVTTflN. 



Bachelors have to observe and follow the rules of "card- 
leaving/"' it is an irksome duty to many, and is therefore 
neglected ; at least in a measure and under various cir- 
cumstances. If a bachelor has a large number of indmate 
friends and is a favorite, the consequences of his neglect 
of this social observance troubles him but little, his friends 
know where to find him and seek him. But if a bachelor 
has his way to make in society, and if he wishes to keep 
up the acquaintances he has already made, he must be 
punctilious in the matter of card-leaving. Bachelors are 
often excused for their neglect of this social custom, but 
it is considered supercilious, negligent and ill-bred. 

STYLE OF CARDS AND ENGRAVING. 

Gentlemen's cards are quite small, of bristol board, and 
should be of thin board; engraving, small, distinct script; 
name in centre of card; address, right hand corner; and, 



if a member of a club, name of club left hand corner. 
Old En.Q^lish, fac-similes, or ornamental style of letters 
are out of date. A gentleman's card without the prefix 
of "Mr." would be a glaring solecism, and in the worst 
possible taste. The correct form, for a gentleman's card 
is as follows: 

Mr. Aiigiiste Clarendon, 
Union League Club. iioo Fifth Avetiue. 



or, 



Mr. Auguste Clarendon, 

IIOO Fifth Avenue. 

Initials appertaining to honorary rank should never be 
printed or written on a card. Military or professional 
title necessarily precedes the surname of the person bear- 
ing them, and of course are always used, as. 

Colonel Clarendon. 

Captain Clarendon. 
Ra\ Auguste Clarendon, 
Dr. Auguste Clarendon. 



SENDING CARDS BY POST. 

Visiting cards can under no draims/ances he sent by post ; 
to do so would betray the greatest ignorance of what is 
done in society. Cards must be left in person. 

ETIQUETTE OF CARD-LEAVING. 

The rules of etiquette, though stringent as regards ac- 
quaintances, have little or no application as regards 
intimate friends ; friendship over-rules etiquette, and in a 
manner usurps its place. There is very little "ceremon- 
ious" card-leaving observed between gentlemen, if any 
intimacy exists between them. Of course, if a gentle- 
man should not find his friend at home when calling 
upon him, he should \e2ive his card as a proof of his hav- 
ing wanted to see him. 

NEW ACCQUAINTANCES MARRIED LADIES. 

A gentleman may nof leave his card upon a married 
lady, or the mistress of a house, to whom he has been 
introduced, however gracious or agreeable she has been 
to him, unless she expressly asks him to call, or gives him 
to understand in an unmistakable manner, that his doing 
so would be agreeable to her. This rule holds good when- 
ever the introduction has taken place. If theacquintance 
is desired, a polite allusion would be made to his calling 
at her home, as " I am always at home at five o'clock, if 
you like to come and see us, '' — but she would not use a 



\ 



more direct one — in which case he would leave his card 
on her as soon afterward as convenient and he would also 
leave a card for the lady's husband, even if he had not 
made his acquaintance when making that of the lady. 

NEW ACQUAINTANCES — YOUNG LADIES. 

A gentleman may not under any circumstances leave a 
card on a young lady to whom he has been introduced, 
unless her mother, chaperon, or the lady under whose 
care she is for the time, gives him the opportunity of 
furthering the acquaintance in the manner just indicated 
for married ladies. It would be considered "ill-bred" 
were a gentleman to ask ''if he might have the pleasure 
of calling." 

CARD-LEAVING AFTER AN ENTERTAINMENT. 

It is imperative for a gentleman to leave his card on the 
host or the hostess after every entertainment to which he has 
been invited whether he was present or not, the fact of his 
having been invited by them obliges him to pay them this 
civility. If invited by a new acquaintance, the cards 
should be left the day after the entertainment, but if by a 
less recent acquaintance, they may be left within the week, 
but the earlier the cards are left the greater the politeness 
shown. If a bachelor acquaintance gives an entertain- 
ment, the same rule applies as to the necessity of cards 
being left on him. If a gentleman receives an invitation 
to an entertainment at the house of a new acquaintance, 



either from a lady, to whom he has been recently intro- 
duced, or a mutual friend, he should leave his cards at 
the house the day after the entertainment, one for the mis- 
tress and one for the master of the house, whether he 
had accepted the invitation or not. 

CARD-LEAVING ON SLIGHT ACQUAINTANCE BETWEEN 
GENTLEMEN, 

When the acquaintance between gentlemen is but slight, 
they would leave a card on one another occassional ly, it 
generally follows that the one who most desires the ac- 
quaintanceship is the one to leave his card first. The one 
of the highest social position would be the one to intimate 
that he desires the acquaintance of the other. 

CARD-LEAVING ON RETURN TO THE CITY. 

Bachelors, as a rule, are expected to leave cards on the 
master and mistress of a house with whom they are ac- 
quainted as soon as they are aware that the family have 
arrived in the city, or if a bachelor himself has been away, 
he should leave cards on his acquaintances immediately 
on his return. He should leave one card for the mistress 
of the house and one for its master. A gentleman would 
not leave a card for the young daughters of the house, or 
for any young relatives of its mistress w^ho might be stay- 
ing with her; but if a married lady with whom he was ac- 
quainted was staying with their friends, on whom he was 
calling, he would leave a card for her and her husband, 
if he was on a visit at the same house. 



TURNING DOWN CORNEKS OF CARDS. 

A gentleman does not turn his card down at the corner, 
even though he may be acquainted with other ladies of 
the family besides the mistress of the house. 

OUR VISITING CARDS. 

Our visiting cards are the finest in the world. Thick 
or thin card board cut to any size or shape. Our board 
is made for us, we do our own cutting and can please the 
most fastidious. 



DEMPgEY & glRROLL. 

RGRALDIG enGRAYGR^ ADD PAinCGR?, 

" Heraldry " is the art of arranging and explaining 
in proper terms all that appertains to the bearing of 
Coats-of-Arms, badges, and other hereditary or as- 
sumed marks of honor. 






46 East Fourteei?tl? Street, {Umn Square South,) 

Near Broadway, New York Sity. 



DEMPgfiY & 6ARR0LL, 
monoGRAms for noie papgrs, 

"Monograms" are as old as -writing itself, and were 
used by sovereigns, popes and all high dignitaries 
of ancient times. The modern school Monogram in 
ornamental form conveys to the eye, without ob- 
scurity, the initials employed. Fine Monograms, $2. 




46 East Fourteei^th Street, (Ur?ion Square South,) 

Near Broadway, New York Kity. 



DEMPSEY & CARROLL, 

ARC $CATIOneR$ ADD enCRAYGR^, 

Fac-Simile Name and Initial Dies; exact likeness 
or copy of one's own handwriting, makes beautiful 
and characteristic heading for note and letter paper, 
and is now quite the rage. Price from $2 to $5. 




o^? 



-/^ 





46 East Fourteei?tb Street, ' (Uijion Square South,) 

Near Broadway, New York Gity. 



DEMPSEY & SARROLL, 

CnGRAYGR^ RUB RVd ^lATlOUem, 

" Cypher Monograms " —Initial letters of a name 
inwoven, either plain or embellished in drawing, are 
very elegant and desirable for those wishing a dis- 
tinctive mark for their paper. The sample is made 
larger to show the character of our work. Price, 
from $2 to $5. 




46 East Fourteentl? Street, (Ui^ioij Square Soutl],) 

Near Broadway, New York Gity. 



• DEMPSfiy & gARROLL, 

ARC SCATIOneR? ADD enGRAVGRS, 

Country Seat Address Dies, • • from $5 to $10. 

City Residence " " ^2. 

Special designs and great variety. 




FOREST LAWN. 



^J^^e(gq,Ua g 



oK^^^ 



^^ ^K'lode Island 



%^ab\so\v Q^^etyjce. 



46 East Fourteei?tb Street, (Union Square South,} 

Near Broadway, New York Sity. 



50 Selected 



^ppftcattotis* 



IKePRinC OB 100 Y&Km S60.^ 



CONTENTS. 



yEsop, Biographical, . . . . 

50 .^sop's Failles and 

Page. 

1. ^sop at Play, ... 14 

2. Ass Ealing Thistles, . . 9 

3. Ant and the Grasshopper, 39 

4. Belly and the Members, 37 

5 . Bees, the Drones and the 

Wasp, 12 

6. Birds, the Beasts and the 

Bat, • 40 

7. Country Mouse and City 

Mouse, .... 41 

8. Crow and the Pitcher, . 28 

9. Ctesar and the Slave, . 13 

10. Cupid and Death, . . 43 

11. Cock and the Jewel, . 44 

12. Deer and the Lion, . .18 

13. Eagle and the Beetle, . 36 
14 Forrester and the Lion, . 15 

1 5 . Fox and the Flies, . . 9 

16. Fox and the Boar, . .19 

17. Fox and the Ape, . . 25 

18. Fox and the Crow, . . 26 

19. Frogs and Jupiter, . 51 

20. Fox and the Sick Lion, . 46 

21. Hercules and the Carter, 29 

22. Horse and the Loaded 

Ass, II 

23. Hart and the Vine, . 22 

24. Hawk and the Night- 

ingale, 47 



Applications :— 



27. 
28. 
29. 
30- 
31- 
32. 

34. 
35- 
36. 
37- 
38. 

39- 
40. 

41. 



44. 

45- 

46. 

47- 
48. 



3 & 4 

Page. 

15 

32 
27 
16 
21 
48 
21 
24 

5 
32 
34 
3' 



25. Jupiter and Pallas, 

26. Lark and Young Ones 
Lion in Love, 
Lynx and the Mole, . 
Lion and the Mouse, 
Leopard and the Fox, 
Mountain in Labor, 
Magpie, and the Owl, 
Master and Scholar, 
Mouse and the Weasel 
Man and the Weasel, 
Old Man and Death, 
Oak and the Reed, 
Old Man and His Sons 
Old Hound, . . . 
Proud Frog. 
Peacock's Complaint, 

42. Peacock and the Crane 

43. Stag in the Ox-Stall, 
Shepherd turned Mer- 
chant, 6 

Trumpeter taken Prison- 
er, 

Two Men and the Axe, 
Wood and the Clown, 
Wind and the Sun, . 

49. Young Man and the 

Swallow, .... 52 

50. Young Man and His Cat, 53 



50 
45 
23 
25 
38 
35 



10 

8 

17 
20 



iEsop, Biographical, 

Born 2400 Years ago. 



The neighbors stared and sigh'd, yet bless'd the lad: 
Some deem'd him wondrous wise, and some heheved him mad. 

Beattie. 

"Fables," says Mr. Addison, "were the first pieces of wit 
that made their appearance in the world; and have been still 
highly valued, not only in times of the greatest simplicity, but 
among the most polite ages of mankind." 

Reading is to the mind, what exercise is to the boay; as by 
the one health is preserved, strengthened, and invigorated; by 
the other, virtue (which is the health of the mind) is kept 
alive, cherished and confirmed. But, as exercise becomes tedious 
and painful when we make use of it only as the means of 
health, so reading is too apt to grow uneasy and burdensome, 
when we apply ourselves to it only for our improvement in virtue. 
For this reason, the virtue which we gather from a fable or an 
allegory, is like the health we get by hunting, as we are engaged 
in an agreeable pursuit that draws us on with pleasure, and makes 
us insensible of the fatigues that accompany it. 

iEsop, upon the credit of Plutarch, lived in the days of Croesus, 
King of Lydia, about five hundred and fifty years before Christ. 
Born a slave, but as a freeman he came to the Court of Croesus 



from his old master, Jadmon. Croesus discovered that knowl- 
edge was power, and he assembled round him all who had at- 
tained a reputation for wisdom. ^sop quickly grew in favor 
with Croesus by his genial mode of imparting knowledge; indeed, 
when all the Seven Sages had had their say, ^sop was often 
declared the master genius of all. 

At Corinth we see a mutiny among the common people ap- 
peased by the fable of the ^* Belly and the Members.'" At Athens 
he gave a lesson to both prince and people in his fable of the 
"Frogs and Jupiter." 

The Delphians ignominiously received ^sop, who appealed to 
their reverence for the laws of hospitality in the fable of "The 
Eagle and the Beetle"; but fearing their trade in oracles to be 
in danger, they hurled the unfortunate fable-maker from the 
highest of the Phpedrian Precipices. At Athens a statue was 
erected to his memoiy, done by the hand of the famed Lysippus. 



THE APPLICATIONS, 

The applications of the Fables as here published are from a 
volume published over loo years ago in their entirety, and are 
golden lessons. 

Wise men applaud us when we eat the eaters, 

As the devil laughs when keen folks cheat the cheaters. 

Scott. 

GEORGE D. CARROLL. 



S^FSoj's yailFS, 



Xlie Master and liis Schiolar. 

As a schoolmaster was walking upon the bank of a river, not far 
from his school, he heard a cry of one in distress; advancing a few 
paces further, he saw one of his scholars in the water, hanging by 
the bough of a willow. The boy had, it seems, been learning to 
swim with corks, and now, thinking himself sufficiently experienced, 
had thrown these implements aside, and ventured into the water 
without them; but the force of the stream having hurried him out 
of his depth, he had certainly been drowned had not the branch 
of a willow, which grew on the bank, providentially hung in his 
way. The master took up the corks, which lay upon the ground, 
and throwing them to his scholar, made use of this opportunity to 
read a lecture to him upon the inconsiderate rashness ot youth. 
'•Let this be an example to you," says he, "in the conduct of your 
future life ; never to throw away your corks till time has given you 
strength and experience enough to swim without them." 

The Application. — Some people are so self-conceited that 
they will run themselves into many inconveniences rather than be 
thought to want assistance. Now there are many hslps in life 
which they who launch out into ihe wide ocean of the world ought 
to make use of as supporters till they are grown strong in the 
knowledge of men, and sufficiently versed in business to stem 
the tide by themselves. Yet many, like the child in the 
fable, through an affectation of being thought able and experi- 
enced, undertake affairs which are too big for them, and venture out 
of their depth. 

Few are too wise to be advised, nor are we ever too old to learn 
anything which we may be the better for. But young men, above 
all, should not disdain to open their eyes to example and their ears 
to admonition. They should not be ashamed to furnish themselves 



with rules for their behavior in the world. However mean it may 
seem to use such helps, yet it is really dangerous to be without 
them. As a man who is lame with the gout had better draw the 
observation of the people upon him by walking with a crutch than 
expose himself to their ridicule by tumbling down in the dirt. It is 
as disagreeable to see a young man throw himself into conversation 
with an assuming air upon a subject of which he knows nothing, as 
for a child of three months old to be left to go without its leading- 
strings. 

And here it may not be improper to say something by way of ap- 
plication to this whole book. It is not expected that those who are 
versed and hackneyed in the paths of life should trouble themselves 
to peruse these little loose sketches of morality. Such may do well 
enough without them. They are written for the benefit of the 
young and inexperienced. If they do but relish the contents of this 
book so as to think it worth reading over two or three times, it will 
have attained its end; and should it meet with such a reception, the 
several authors originally concerned in these fables, and the present 
compiler of the whole, may be allowed not altogether to have mis- 
applied their time in preparing such a collation for their entertain- 
ment. 



The Slieplierd turned Mer- 
cliant. 

A shepherd that kept his sheep near the sea, one clear Summer's 
day, drove them close to the shore, and sat down upon a piece of 
rock to enjoy the cool breeze that came from the water. The green 
element appeared calm and smooth, and Thetis, with her train of 
smiling, beautiful nymphs, seemed to dance upon the floating sur- 
face of the deep. The shepherd's heart thrilled with secret pleas- 
ure, and he began to wish for the life of a merchant. "Oh, how 
happy," says he, "should I be to plow this liquid plain in a 
pretty, tight vessel of my own, and to visit the remote parts of the 
world, instead of sitting idly here to look upon a parcel of senseless 
sheep while they are grazing! Then what ample returns would I 
make in the way of traffic, and what a short and certain path would 
this be to riches and honor!" In short, this thought was improved 



-fc 



into a resolution. Away he posted with all expedition, sold his flock 
and all that he had. Then he bought a bark, and fitted it out for a 
voyage. He loaded it with a cargo of dates, and set sail for a mart 
that was held on the coasts of Asia, five hundred leagues off. He 
had not been long at sea before the wind began to blow tempestu- 
ously, and the waves to rage and swell. The violence of the weather 
increasing upon him, his ship was in danger of sinking, and he was 
obliged to lighten her by throwing all his dates overboard. After 
this his vessel was driven upon a rock near the shore and split to 
pieces. He himself hardly escaped with his life. Poor and destitute 
of subsistence, he applied himself to the man who had bought his 
flock, and was admitted to attend it as a hireling. He sat in the 
same place as before, and the ocean again looked calm and smooth. 
"Ah!" says he, "deceitful, tempting element, in vain you try to en- 
gage me a second time ; my misfortunes have left me too poor to be 
again deluded the same way, and experience has made me so wise 
as to resolve, whatever my condition may be, never to trust thy 
faithless bosom more." 



The Application. — Bought wit is the best; and the more variety 
of disappointments we meet with, the greater will be our experience, 
and the better we shall be qualified to rub through the world. Man- 
kind have a strange propensity for things that are novel and untried ; 
and so strong a bias inclines them to shitting and changing, that 
every one disrelishes his own profession, and wishes he had been of 
some other employment. The young academic, assigned to the 
most grave of all professions, hates to think of his peculiar habit, or 
that formal, reserved deportment by which he is to separate himself 
from what he counts the pleasures of the world, and bid adieu to 
that irregularity which youth so much delights in. He longs for 
a commission m the army, that he may be fashionably licentious, 
and indulge himself, unquestioned, in the wonted sallies of a brisk, 
youthful appetite. In the meantime, the old soldier, harassed out 
with laborious campaigns abroad, and vexed with the slow returns 
of his half -pay at home, repines at the happy condition of the 
ecclesiastic fattening in ease and plenty and sleeping unmolested 
in one of the upper stalls of a cathedral. With remorse, he calls 
to mind his former perverseness in quitting a college life, and de- 
feating the purpose of his relations, who had purchased the next re- 
version of a fat benefice for him. He shakes his head, and reflects 
that if it had not been for his folly, instead of aching limbs and an 



8 



empty purse, he might have enjoyed as much leisure and luxury as 
any priest in the land. 

Thus, sometimes with, sometimes without, reason, we are disgusted 
at our station, and envy those who are embarked in another way; 
which, however it may seem to be a misfortune entailed upon us, 
yet carries this advantage with it, that, as we are almost sure of be- 
ing disappointed with a change, we are certain, likewise, of gaining 
some experience by the bargain and being wiser for the future. 



Tlie TiJvo Men and tlie Axe. 

Two men traveling upon the road, one of them saw an axe lying 
upon the ground, where somebody had been hewing timber; so, 
taking it up, says he, "I have found an axe." "Do not say /," 
says the other, "but we have found; for, as we are companions, we 
ought to share it between us." But the first would not consent. 
However, they had not gone far before the owner of the axe, hear- 
ing what had become of it, pursued them with a warrant, which 
the fellow that had it perceived. "Alas!'' says he to his com- 
panion, "we are undone." "Nay," says the other, "do not say 
we, but /am undone; for as you would not let me share the prize, 
neither will I share the danger with you." 

The Application. — This fable hints to us the conveniency, if not 
necessity, of making friendships firm and lasting. And to this pur- 
pose nothing is so requisite as a strict observance of the rules of 
honor and generosity ; for the very life and soul of friendship sub- 
sists upon mutual benevolence, upon conferring and receiving obli- 
gations on either hand. A stingy, reserved behavior starves it; it 
ought to be open, free, communicative, without suspicion or distrust. 

Nor is there anything merely chimerical or romantic in this no- 
tion; for, if we examine, we shall find that reason will confirm the 
truth, and experience evince the utility of it. He that hopes for 
assistance or accommodation in any exigency or time of misfortune, 
must lay in a provision for it by watching the necessities of his ac- 
quaintances, and relieving the most deserving of them in their straits 
by a ready and willing contribution. By this means, gratitude, 
which is never wanting to an honest mind, will secure us a reason- 
able fund in reversion; and all the favors we bestow will, like the 
tide of a river, in due season flow back upon us. 



Xlie Fox and tlie Flies. 

A fox was swimming across a river, and when he came to the 
other side he found the bank so steep and slippery that he could not 
get up it. But this was not all his misfortune; for while he stood in 
the water, deliberating what to do, he was attacked by a swarm of 
flies, who, settling upon his head and eyes, stung and plagued him 
grievously. A swallow, who was passing at the time, beheld and 
pitied his condition, and withal offered to drive away the flies which 
molested and teased him in that sad manner. "Friend," replies the 
fox, "I thank you for your kind offer, but must desire you by no 
means to disturb those honest bloodsuckers that arc quartered upon 
me, and whose bellies, I fancy, are pretty well filled; for if they 
should leave me, a fresh swarm would take their places, and I 
should not have a drop of blood left in my body." 

The Application. — This fable is recorded by Aristotle, who 
tells us that ^sop spoke it to the Samians as an argument to dis- 
suade them from deposing their great minister of state. And a 
shrewd and weighty one it is too. For a minister of state is either 
an honest, public-spirited man, and labors for the good of the com- 
monwealth, or he is chiefly intent, by all ways and means, upon fill- 
ing his own coffers and upon aggrandizing and enriching his rela- 
tions. Now, where the first happens, one need not say how much 
it behooves every one to wish for the continuance of so wise and 
good a patriot; but if he be one of the other stamp, we may con- 
sider that, like the flies in the fable, he is pretty near full, and if he 
were removed, would only make way for some other more hungry 
aspirant. 



The Ass Bating Thistles. 

An ass was loaded with good provisions of every sort, which, in 
time of harvest, he was carrying into the field for his master and the 
reapers to dine upon. By the way he met with a fine, large thistle, 
and, being very hungry, began to mumble it; and, while he was do- 
ing this, he entered into this reflection: "How many greedy epicures 



lO 



would think themselves happy amid such a variety of delicate viands 
as I now carry! But to me the prickly thistle is more savory and 
relishing than the most exquisite and sumptuous banquet." 

The Application. — Happiness and misery, and oftentimes pleas- 
ure and pain, exist merely in our opinion, and are no more to be ac- 
counted for than the differences in tastes. That which is one man's 
meat is another man's poison, is a proposition that ought to be al- 
lowed in all particulars where the opinion is concerned, as well as 
in eating and drinking. And yet how apt we are to wonder at peo- 
ple for not liking this or that, or how they can think so and so? 
This childish humor of wondering at the different tastes and opin- 
ions of others occasions much uneasiness among the generality of 
mankind. But if we consider things rightly, why should we be 
more concerned at others differing from us in their way of thinking 
upon any subject whatever than at their liking cheese or mustard, 
one or both of which we may happen to dislike? In truth, he that 
expects all mankind should be of his opinion is much more stupid 
and unreasonable than the asa in the fable. 



Xlie Trumpeter taken Pris- 
oner. 

A trumpeter, being taken prisoner in a battle, begged hard for 
quarter, declaring his innocence and protesting that he neither had 
nor could kill any man, bearing no arms but only his trumpet, 
which he was obliged to sound at the word of command. "For 
that reason," replied his enemies, "are we determined not to spare 
you; for though you yourself never fight, yet with that wicked in- 
strument of yours you blow up animosity between other people, 
and so are the occasion of much bloodshed." 

The Application. — A man may be guilty of murder who has 
never handled a sword or pulled a trigger, or lifted up his arm 
with any mischievous weapon. There is a little incendiary, called 
the tongue, which is more venomous than a poisoned arrow, and 
more killing than a two-edged sword. The moral of the fable 
therefore is this: that if in any civil insurrection the persons taken 



II 



in arms against the gover.iment deserve to die, much more do they 
whose devilish tongues gave birth to the sedition and excited the tu- 
mult. When wicked men, instead of preaching peace and charity, 
employ that engine of scandal, their tongues, to foment rebellions, 
whether they succeed in their designs or not, they ought to be 
severely punished, for they have done what in them lay to set folks 
together by the ears, and they have blown the trumpet and sounded 
the alarm, and if thousands are not destroyed by the sword it is 
none of their fault. 



Xlie Horse and tlie Loaded 

Ass. 

An idle horse and an ass laboring under a heavy burden were 
traveling the road together; they both belonged to a country fellow, 
who trudged it on foot by them. The ass, ready to faint under his 
heavy load, entreated the horse to assist him and lighten his burden 
by taking some of it upon his back. The horse was ill-natured, 
and refused to do it; upon which the poor ass tumbled down in the 
midst of the highway and expired in an instant. The countryman 
un girted his pack-saddle, and tried several ways to relieve him, but 
all to no purpose, which when he perceived he took the whole bur- 
den and laid it upon the horse, together with the skin cf the dead 
ass. So that the horse, by his moroseness in refusing to do a small 
kindness, justly brought upon himself a great inconvenience. 

The Application. — Self-love is no such ill principle, if it were 
but well and truly directed, for it is impossible that any man should 
love himself to any purpose who withdraws his assistance from his 
friends or the public. Every government is to be considered as a 
body politic, and every man who lives in it as a member^ef that 
body. Now, to carry on the allegory, no member can thrive better 
than when they all jointly unite their endeavors to a.-^^i^t and im- 
prove the whole. If the head were to refuse its assistance in pro- 
curing food for the mouth, they must both starve and perish to- 
gether. And when those who are parties concerned in the same 
community deny such assistance to each other as the preservation of 
that community necessarily requires, their self-interestedness in that 
case is ill directed, and will have a quite contrary effect from what 



12 



they intended. How many people are so senseless as to think it 
hard that there should be any taxes in the nation; whereas, were 
Ihere to be none indeed, those very people would be undone imme- 
diately. That little property they have would be presently plun- 
dered by foreign or domestic enemies, and then they would be glad 
to contribute their quota. The charges of supporting a government 
are necessary things, and easily supplied by a due and well-propor- 
tioned contribution. 

To be ready to assist our friends upon all occasions is not only 
good, as it is an act of humanity, but highly discreet, as it strength- 
ens our interests and gives us an opportunity of lightening the bur- 
den of life. 



Xlie Bees, tlie Urones, and 
tlie "Wasp. 

A parcel of drones got into a hive among the Bees, and disputed 
the title with them, swearing that the honey and the combs were 
their goods. The bees were obliged to go to law with them, and 
the wasp happened to be the judge of the cause; one who was well 
acquainted with the nature of each, and therefore the better quali- 
fied to decide the controversy between them. Accordingly, ' 'Gen- 
tlemen," says he (speaking to both plamtiff and defendant), "the 
usual methods of proceeding in these courts is pretty chargeable, 
and slow withal ; therefore, as you are both my friends, and I wish 
you well, I desire you would refer the matter to me, and I will de- 
cide between you instantly." They were both pleased with the of- 
fer, and returned him thanks. "Why, then," says he, "that it may 
appear who is the just proprietor of these honeycombs (for being 
both so nearly alike as you are in color, I must needs own the point 
is somewhat dubious), do you ," addressing himself to the bees, "take 
one hive; you," speaking to the drones, "another, and go to mak- 
ing honey as fast as you can, that we may know by the taste and 
color of it who has the best title to the dispute." The bees readily 
accepted the proposal, but the drones would not stand to it. And 
so Judge Wasp, without any further ceremony, declared in favor of 
the former. 



13 

The Application — Nothing is so sure a sign of a man's being, 
or at least thinking himself, in the wrong, as his refusing to come to 
a reference. And how happy would it be for the public, if our 
judges now-a-days were empowered to dispatch causes in that easy, 
expeditious way which the wasp in the fable made use of. 

Princes may easily be imposed upon if they will take every little 
fellow's word for the measure of his own merit. And it is indeed 
scarce possible that the encouragements of a court should always be 
dispensed to the most deserving men, for such are too modest to 
offer themselves. But it highly concerns any government, in the 
dispensaiion of its favors, to distinguish those who have behaved 
well, and not to let places of profit and advantage be run away 
with by drones. 



Caesar and tlie Slave. 

As Tiberius Caesar was upon a progress to Naples once, he put up 
at a house he had upon the mountain Misenus, which was built there 
by LucuUus, and commanded a near view of the Tuscan sea, hav- 
ing a distant prospect even of that of Sicily. Here, as he was 
walking in the gardens and wilderness of a most delightful verdure, 
one of his domestic slaves, which belonged to that house, putting 
himself into a most alert posture and dress, appeared in one of the 
walks where the Emperor happened to be, sprinkling the ground 
with a watering-pot, in order to lay the dust, and this he did so 
officiously, that he was taken notice of, and even laughed at ; for he 
ran through private alleys and turnings, from one walk to another, 
so that wherever the Emperor went, he still found this fellow mighty 
busy with his watering-pot. But at last, his design being discov- 
ered, — which was, that he fancied Csesar would be so touched with 
this diligence of his, as to make him free (part of which ceremony 
consisted in giving the slave a gentle stroke on one side of the face), 
— his imperial majesty being disposed to be merry, called upon him, 
and when the man came up, full of joyful expectation of his liberty, 
"Hark you, friend," says he, "I have observed that you have been 
very busy a great while; but it was impertinently busy, in officiously 
meddling where you had nothing to do, while you might have em- 



14 

ployed your time better elsewhere, and, therefore, I must be so free 
as to tell you that you have mistaken your man. I cannot afford a 
box of the ear at so low a price as you bid for it." 

The Application. — Phosdrus tells us, upon his word, that this 
is a true story, and that he wrote it for the sake of a set of indus- 
trious, idle gentlemen at Rome, who were harrassed and fatigued 
with a daily succession of care and trouble, because they had nothing 
to do; always in a hurry, but without business; busy, but to no 
purpose ; laboring under a voluntary necessity ; and taking abund- 
ance of pains to show they were good for nothing. Tt is not our be- 
ing busy and officious that will procure us the esteem of men of 
sense ; but the intending and contriving our actions to some useful 
purpose, and for the general good of mankind. 



^sop at Play, 



An Athenian one day found .Esop at play with a company of lit- 
tle boys at their childish diversions, and began to jeer and laugh at 
him for it. The old fellow, who was too much of a wag himself, to 
suffer others to ridicule him, took a bow, unstrung, and laid it upon 
the ground. Then calling the censorious Athenian, "Now, philoso- 
pher," says he, "expound this riddle if you can, and tell us what 
the unstrained bow implies. " The man, after racking his brains, 
and scratching his pate about it a considerable time to no purpose, 
at last gave it up, and declared he knew not what to make of it. 
"Why," says yEsop, laughing, "if you keep a bow always bent, it 
will break presently; but if you let it go slack, it will be fitter for 
use when you want it." 

The Application. — The mind of man is like a bow, in this re- 
spect; for if it be kept always intent upon business, it will either 
break and be good for nothing, or lose that spring and energy which 
is required in one who would acquit himself with credit. But 
sports and diversions sooth and slacken it, and keep it in a condition 
to be exerted to the best advantage upon occasion. Amusements 
ought to be allowed because they are proper. We may, if we like 
it, as well play with children as men; and rather, if we find they 
can divert us better, which is not very seldom the case. 



15 



Jupiter and Pallas. 

Once upon a time, the heathen gods had a mind to adopt each a 
particular tree into their patronage and tuition. Jupiter chose the 
oak, Venus was pleased to name the myrtle, Apollo pitched upon 
the laurel, Cybele took the pine, and Hercules the poplar. Pallas 
being present, expressed her admiration at their fancy in making 
choice of trees that bore nothing. "Oh," says Jupiter, "the reason 
of that is plain enough, for we would not be thought to dispense 
our favors with any mercenary view." "You may do as you please," 
says she, "but let the olive be my tree; and I declare that my reason 
for choosing it is because it bears plenty of noble, useful fruit." 
Upon which the thunderer, putting on a serious, composed gravity, 
spoke thus to the goddess: "Indeed, daughter, it is not without jus- 
tice <^hat you are so celebrated for your wisdom; for, unless some 
benefit attends our actions, to perform them only for the sake of 
glory is but a silly business." 

The Application. — This fable is to put us in mind that we 
should intend something useful and beneficial in all our actions. To 
undertake things with no other view but that of empty glory, is em- 
ploying our time in a very foolish manner. The Almighty created 
the world out of his infinite goodness for the good of his creatures, 
and not out of a passion for glory. And when we talk of glorify- 
ing the Author cf our being, if we think reasonably, we must mean 
showing our gratitude to Him by imitating this goodness of His as 
far as we are able, and endeavoring to make some good or other the 
aim of all our undertakings. 



XHe Forester and the Lrion. 

A forester meeting with a lion one day, they discoursed together 
for a while without differing much in opinion. At last, a dispute 
happening to arise about the point of superiority between a man and 
a lion, the man, wanting a better argument, showed the lion a mar- 
ble monument, on which was placed the statue of a man striding 
over a vanquished lion. "If this," says the lion, "is all you have 



i6 



to say for it, let us be the carvers, and we will make the lion strid- 
ing over the man." 

The Application. — Contending parties are very apt to appeal 
for the truth to records written by their own side ; but nothing is 
more unfair, Such is the partiality of mankind in favor of them- 
selves and their own actions, that it is almost impossible to come at 
any certainty by reading the accounts which are written on one side 
only. We have few or no memoirs come down to us of what was 
transacted m the world during the sovereignty of ancient Rome, but 
what were written by those who had a dependency upon it; there- 
fore it is no wonder that they appear, upon most occasions, to have 
been so great and glorious a nation. What their contemporaries of 
other countries thought of them we cannot tell, otherwise than from 
their own writers; it is not impossible but that they might have de- 
scribed them as a barbarous, rapacious, treacherous, unpolile peo- 
ple, who, upon their conquest of Greece, for some time, made a 
great havoc and destruction of the arts and sciences, as their fellow- 
plunderers, the Goths and Vandals, did afterwards in Italy. What 
monsters would our own party-zealots make of each other, if the 
transactions of the times were to be handed down to posterity by a 
warm-hearted man on either side! And were such records to sur- 
vive two or three centuries, with what perplexities and difficul- 
ties must they embarrass a young historian, as by turns he con- 
sulted them for the characters of his great forefathers! If it 
should so happen, it were to be wished this application might be 
living at the same time; that young readers, instead of doubting to 
which they should give their credit, would not fail to remember, 
that this was the work of a man, that of a lion. 



The Lynx and tlie Mole. 

Once, by chance, a lynx in his rambles met with a mole. The 
lynx, pleased with the various beauties of nature as seen by his 
penetrating eye, solicited the mole to participate with him in view- 
ing the delightful prospect from a rising ground. 

The mole, who had just left his hole in the earth, consented to 
accompany him. When they came in sight of the distant country, 
"See," said the lynx, "how charming is the view before us! Behold 
the bright sun, that seems to give life everywhere and makes all 



17 

things rejoice!" "Well, well," said the mole, "I do not know 
what you may see; but, for my part, there seems only a heavy 
mist before me." 

"Now," said the lynx, "I clearly perceive the difference there is 
between us: your dull senses perceive little or nothing, while I re- 
ceive both information and delight. You are no fit companion for 
one who by alchemy of mind can generate jewels, and whose keen 
eye can pierce objects the most opaque. Go you back again to your 
dark abode ia the earth, while I shall range the forest; for to such 
as have the power of perception, the treasures of nature are every- 
where teeming with knowledge and with pleasure." 

The Application.— This fable seems to carry its moral in itself, 
so that little more remains to be said upon it. Certain it is, that if 
the very same thing be shown to two persons of different degrees of 
mtellect, or of different dispositions, their perceptions of it will as 
widely differ from each other as if they had seen two different things: 
One views it with apathy and without interest, the other sees it with 
delight, still heightened by a lively imagination, which brings a 
thousand associated pleasures in its train ; and thus, while to the one 
It seems as if deprived even of its own beauties, to the other it 
IS decked out in borrowed splendor. From this cause proceeds that 
vast difference of opinions which we often hear given by different 
persons concerning the same object. The dull perceive but half of 
what IS shown them, while the genius sees all its excellences refined 
and magnified. 



The l^ood and tlie Clown, 

A country fellow came one day into the wood, and looked about 
him with some concern ; upon which the trees, with a curiosity nat- 
ural to some other creatures, asked him what he wanted. He re- 
plied that he wanted only a piece of wood to make a handle to his 
hatchet. Since that was all, it was voted unanimously that he 
should have a piece of good, sound, tough ash. But he had no 
sooner received and fitted it for his purpose, than he began to lay 
about him unmercifully, and to hack and hew without distinction, 
felling the noblest trees in all the forest. Then the oak is said to have 



i8 

spoken thus to the Beech, in a low whisper," "Brother, we must 
take it for our pains." 

The Application. — No people are more justly liable to suffer 
than those who furnish their ^enemies with any kind of assistance. 
It is generous to forgive, it is enjoined on us by religion to love our 
enemies; but he that trusts, much more contribute to the strengthen- 
ing and arming of an enemy, may almost depend upon repenting 
him of his inadvertent benevolence; and has, moreover, this to add 
to his distress: That when he might liave prevented it, he brought 
his misfortunes upon himself by his own credulity. 

Any person in a community, by what name or title soever distin- 
guished, who affects a power which may possibly hurt the people, 
is an enemy to that people, and therefore they ought not to trust 
him; for though he were ever so fully determined not to abuse such 
a power, yet he is so far a bad man, and as he disturbs the people's 
quiet, and makes them jealous and uneasy, by desiring to have it, 
or even retaining it, when it may prove mischievous. If we consult 
history, we shall find that the thing called prerogative, has been 
claimed and contended for chiefly by those who never intended to 
make a good use of it; and as readily resigned and thrown up by 
just and wise princes, who had the true interest of their people at 
heart. How like senseless stocks do they act, who, by compliment- 
ing some capricious mortal, from time to time, with parcels of pre- 
rogative, at last put it out of their power to defend and maintain 
themselves in their just and natural liberty. 



Xlie Deer and tlie Lrioti. 

A deer being hard pursued by the hounds, found a cave, into which 
he rushed for security. But he was no sooner got in, than he saw him- 
self in the power of a lion, who lay crouched at the farthest end of 
the cave, and sprung upon him in an instant. Being at the point of 
death, he complained thus: "Unhappy creature that I am! I en- 
tered this cave to escape the pursuit of men and dogs, and am fal- 
len into the jaws of the most cruel and rapacious of all wild beasts." 

The Application. — Some are so unfortunate as to be ever run- 
ning into troubles and difficulties; their ill-luck seems to ride them 
through a series of misfortunes, and, in the meantime, like stumbl- 
ing horses, the more they are spurred, the oftener they flounce along 



19 

in the dirt, and the more trips they make. But, as much of this 
may be attributed to fear and hurry, which, whenever they take 
place, indispose and hinder us from acquitting ourselves as we 
should do; it is therefore highly necessary for such as would be 
thought to behave themselves like men, never to let fear have any 
share in their words or actions. This passion blinds us from dis- 
cerning our true interest; it no sooner points out an evil to us, but 
it throws us into the utmost confusion, in our manner and method 
of flying from it. We start from the present mischief, before we 
have fetched upon a place of refuge; and, in the hurry, fall into a 
thousand worse accidents, which we have not time to observe and 
avoid. 



Xlie Fox and tlie Boar. 

The boar stood whetting his tusks against an old tree. The fox, 
who happened to come by at the same time, asked him why he 
made those martial preparations of whetting his teeth, since there 
was no enemy near, that he could perceive. "That may be, master 
Reynard," said the boar, "but we should scour up our arms while 
we have leisure, you know; for in time of danger we shall have 
something else to do." 

The Application. — He that is not idle, when he is at leisure, 
may play with his business. A discreet man should have a reserve 
of everything that is necessary beforehand, that when the time comes 
for him to make use of them, he may not be in a hurry and con- 
fusion. A wise general has not his men to discipline, or his amuni- 
tion to provide, when the trumpet sounds, "To arms," but sets 
apart his times of exercise for one, and his magazines for the other, 
in the calm season of peace. 

We hope to live to a good old age ; should we not then lay up a 
store of conveniences against that time, when we shall be most in 
want of them, and least able to procure them? 

We must die, nay, never start, we must. Are there not some 
necessary things for us to transact before we depart; at least some 
trifle or other for us to bequeath, which a sudden stroke may pre- 
vent us from doing? Sure there is. And if so, how inexcusable 
shall we be, if we defer the execution of it until the alarm comes 
uoon us. 



20 



The YiTind and tlie Sun. 

A dispute once arose between the north wind and the sun, about 
the superiority of their power; and they agreed to try their strength 
upon a traveler, which should be able to get his cloak off first. 
The north wind began and blew a very cold blast, accompanied 
with a sharp, driving shower. But this, and whatever else he could 
do, instead of making the man quit his cloak, obliged him to gird 
it about his body as close as possible. Next came the sun, and 
breaking out from a thick, watery cloud, drove away the cold 
vapors from the sky, and darted his warm, sultry beams upon the 
head of the poor, weather-beaten traveler. The man grows faint 
with the heat, and, unable to endure it any longer, first throws off 
his heavy cloak, and then flies for protection to the shades of a 
neighboring grove. 

The Application. — There is something in the nature of men so 
averse to severe and boisterous treatment, that he who endeavors to 
carry his point that way, instead of prevailing, generally leaves the 
mind of him whom he has thus attempted, in a more confirmed and 
obstinate situation than he found it at first. Bitter words and hard 
usage freeze the heart into a kind of obduracy, which mild, per- 
suasive, and gentle language only can dissolve and soften. Persecu- 
tion has always fixed and rivited those opinions which it was in- 
tended to dispel, and some discerning men have attributed the quick 
growth of Christianity, in a great measure, to the rough and bar- 
barous reception which its first teachers met within the world. The 
same may have been observed of the Reformation; the blood of 
the martyrs was the manure which produced the Protestant crop, on 
which the Reformed Church has subsisted ever since. Providence, 
which always makes use of the most natural means to attain its pur- 
poses, has thought fit to establish the purest religion by this method; 
the consideration of which may give a proper check to those who 
are continually endeavoring to root out errors by that very manage- 
ment, which so infallibly fixes and implants all opinions, as well 
erroneous or orthodox. When an opinion is so violently attacked, 
it makes the persecuted party think that worth defending, which, 
perhaps, they would only have admired awhile, and then resigned 
of their own accord. In short, a fierce, turbulent opposition, like 
the north wind, only serves to make a man wrap his notions more 
closely about him; but we know not what a kind, warm, sunshiny 
behavior, rightly applied, would not be able to effect. 



21 



Xlie Mountain in Labor. 

The mountain was said to be in labor, and uttered most dreadful 
groans. The people came together, far and near, to see what birth 
would be produced ; and after they had waited a considerable time 
in expectation, out crept a mouse. 

The Application. — "Great cry and little wool," is the English 
proverb, the scene of which bears an exact proportion to this fable. 
By which are exposed all those who promise something exceeding 
great, but come off with a production ridiculously litJ.le. Projectors 
of all kinds who endeavor, by artificial rumors, to raise the expec- 
tations of mankind, and then by their mean performances defeat 
and disappoint them, have, time out of mind, been lashed with the 
lecital of this fable. How agreeably surprising it is to see an un- 
promising favorite, whom the caprice of fortune has placed at the 
helm of State, serving the Commonwealth with justice and integ- 
rity, instead of smothering and embezzling the public treasure 
to his own private and wicked ends! And on the contrary, how 
melancholy, how dreadful, or rather, how exasperating and provok- 
ing a sight is it, to behold one whose constant declaration for lib- 
erty and the public good have raised people's expectations of him to 
the highest pitch , as soon as he is got into power , exerting his whole 
art and cunning to ruin and enslave his country! The sanguine 
hopes of all those that wished well to virtue, and flattered themselves 
with a reformation of everything that opposed the well-being of the 
community, vanish away in smoke, and are lost in the dark, gloomy, 
uncomfortable urospect. 



Xlie Lion and tlie Mouse. 

A lion, faint with heat and weary with hunting, was laid down to 
take his repose under the spreading boughs of a shady oak. It 
happened that while he slept, a company of scrambling mice ran 
over his back and waked him. Upon which , starting up, he clapped 
his claw upon one of them, and was just going to put it to death, 
when the little suppliant implored his mercy in a very moving man- 
ner, begging him not to stain his noble character with the blood of 
so despicable and small a beast. The lion, considering the matter, 
thought proper to do as he was desired, and immediately released 



22 



his little, trembling prisoner. Not long after, traversing the forest in 
pursuit of prey, he chanced to run into the toils of the hunters, and 
not able to disengage himself, he set up a most hideous and loud 
roar. The mouse hearing the voice, and knowing it to be the lion's, 
immediately repaired to the place, and bid him fear nothing, for 
that he was his friend. Then straight he fell to work, and with his 
little, sharp teeth gnawing asunder the knots and fastenings of the 
toils, set the royal brute at liberty. 

The Application. — This fable gives us to understand, that there 
is no person in the world so little, but even the greatest may, at some 
time or other, stand in need of his assistance; and consequently 
that it is good to use clemency, where there is any room for it, tow- 
ards those who fall in our power. A generosity of this kind is a 
handsome virtue, and looks very graceful whenever it is exerted, if 
there were nothing else in it; but as the lowest people in life may, 
upon occasion, have it in their power either to serve or hurt us, 
that makes it our duty, in point of common interest, to behave our- 
selves with good-nature and lenity towards all with whom we have 
to do. Then the gratitude of the mouse, and his readiness, not 
only to repay, but even to exceed the obligation due to his benefac- 
tor, notwithstanding his little body, gives us a specimen of a great 
soul, which is never so much delighted as with an opportunity of 
showing how sensible it is of favors received. 



The Hart and tlie Vine. 

A hart, being pursued hard by the hunters, hid himself under the 
broad leaves of a shady, spreading vine. When the hunters were 
gone by, and had given him over for lost, he, thinking himself very 
secure, began to crop and eat the leaves of the vine. By this means 
the branches being put into a rustling motion, drew the eyes of the 
hunters that way; who, seeing the vine stir, and fancying some 
wild beast had taken covert there, shot their arrows at a venture, 
and killed the hart, who, before he expired, uttered his dying 
words to this purpose: "Ah! I suffer justly for my ingratitude, who 
could not forbear doing an injury to the vine, that so kindly con- 
cealed me in time of danger." 



23 

The Application. — Ingratitude has been always esteemed the 
greatest of crimes, and what, as it were, comprehends all other 
vices within it; for he that is capable of injuring his benefactor, 
what will he scruple towards another? If his conscience cannot be 
felt with the weight of an obligation added to it, much less will it 
have any influence where there is none. So that we may conclude 
that the man who has been guilty of ingratitude, will not stick at 
other crimes. Since there is no human law to punish this mischief, 
it would be a great piece of human prudence to mark and observe 
this kind of criminals, in order to avoid all manner of communica- 
tion with them. And if this were strictly put in execution, it could 
be looked upon as no other than a just and proper punishment. 



The Proud Frog. 



An ox, grazing in a meadow, chanced to set a foot among a par- 
cel of young frogs, and trod one of them to death. The rest in- 
formed their mother when she came home, what had happened, tell- 
ing her that the beast which did it was the hugest creature that ever 
they saw in their lives. "What, was it so big?" says the old frog, 
swelling and blowing up her speckled belly to a great degree. "Oh, 
bigger by a vast deal," say they. "And so big?" says she, straining 
herself yet more. "Indeed, mamma," say they, "if you were to 
burst yourself, you would never be so big." She strove yet again, 
and burst herself indeed. 

The Application. — Whenever a man endeavors to live equal 
with one of a greater fortune than himself, he is sure to share a like 
fate with the frog in the fable. How many vain people, of moderate, 
easy circumstances, burst and come to nothing, by vieing with those 
whose estates are more ample than their own? Sir Changeling 
Clumstock was possessed of a very considerable estate, devolved to 
him by the death of an old uncle, who had adopted him as heir. 
He had a false taste for happiness; and without the least economy, 
trusting to the sufficiency of his vast revenue, was resolved to be 
out-done by nobody, in showing grandeur and expensive living. 
He gave five thousand pounds for a piece of ground in the country, 
to set a house upon; the building and furniture of which cost 
fifty thousand pounds more; and his gardens were proportionately 
magnificent. Besides which, he thought himself under a necessity 



24 

of buying out two or three tenements which stood in his neighbor- 
hood, that he might have elbow-room enough. All this he could 
very well bear, and still might have been happy, had it not been 
for an unfortunate view which he one day happened to take of my 
lord Castlebuilder's gardens, which consist of twenty acres, whereas 
his own were not above twelve. From that time he grew pensive; 
and before the ensuing Winter gave five and thirty years' purchase 
for a dozen acres more to enlarge his gardens, built a couple of ex- 
orbitant green-houses, and a large pavilion at the farther end of a 
terrace-walk. The bare repairs and superintendencies of all which, 
call for the remaining part of his income. He is mortgaged pretty 
deep, pays nobody, and resides at a cheap private lodging. 



The Magpie and tlie Owl. 

A pert, conceited magpie was boasting of his own excellence to the 
owl, saying how much he was superior to all the others of his family. 
When the sagacious owl thus answered him: "I shall not attempt to 
argue with you on your superior excellence, when compared with the 
rest of your family, only I must observe, that we are rarely the most 
unbiased judges of our own merits; but the great secret towards ac- 
quiring a competent knowledge of one's self is best found by a criti- 
cal and impartial view of the most conspicuous qualities of our 
nearest of kin, and then return to make a strict examination into 
ourselves, to discover if there is not some slight tincture at least of a 
family similitude in respect to those propensities which we so often 
can distinctly descry and despise in those very nearly allied to us by 
nature." 

The Application. — The aphorism of "nosce te ipsum" (know 
thyself) is soon spoken; but then it is a long while in accomplish- 
ing. Gratian was placed among the seven wise men for having 
been the author of this maxim: "But never," replies the sage, "was 
any one placed there for having performed it; some men know as 
little of themselves as they know a great deal of other men." The 
fool knows belter what is done in his neighbor's house than in his 
own; and some argue more about what does not concern them than 
of what should interest them in the highest degree. 



25 



The Peacocfs Complaint. 

The peacock presented a memorial to Juno, importing how hardly 
he thought he was used in not having as good a voice as the night- 
ingale; how that pretty animal was agreeable to every ear that 
heard it, while he was laughed at for his ugly, screaming noise, if 
he did but open his mouth. The goddess, concerned at the uneasi- 
ness of her favorite bird, answered very kindly, to this purpose: 
*']f the nightingale is blest with a fine voice, you have the advan- 
tage in point of beauty and largeness of person." "Ah!" says he, 
"but what avails my silent, unmeaning beauty, when I am so far 
excelled in voice!" Thef goddess dismissed him, bidding him con- 
sider, that the properties of every creature were appointed by 
the degree of fate: To him beauty; strength to the eagle; to the 
nightingale a voice of melody; the faculty cf speech to the parrot; 
and to the dove innocence. That each of these was contented with 
his own peculiar quality ; and unless he had a mind to be miserable, 
he must learn to be so too. 

The Application.— Since all things (as Juno says) are fixed by 
the eternal and unalterable decree of fate, how absurd is it to hear 
people complaining and tormenting themselves for that which it L 
impossible ever to obtain! they who are ambitious of having more 
good qualities, since that is impracticable, should spare no pains to 
cultivate and recommend those they have; which a sourness and 
peevishness of temper, instead of improving, will certainly lessen 
and impair, whether they are of the mind or body; if we had all 
the desirable properties in the world, we could be no more than 
easy and contented with them; and if a man by a right way of 
thinking, can reconcile himself to his own condition, whatever it be, 
he will fall little short of the most complete state that mortals enjoy. 



The Fox and the Ape. 

Once upon a time, the beasts were so void of reason as to choose 
the ape for their king. He had danced and diverted them with 
playing antic tricks, and truly nothing would serve, but they must 



26 



anoint him their sovereign. Accordingly, crowned he was, and 
affected to look very wise and polite. But the fox, vexed at his 
heart to see his fellow-brutes act so foolishly, was resolved, the first 
opportunity, to convince them of their sorry choice, and punish their 
jackanape of a king for his presumption. Soon after, spying a trap 
in a ditch, which was bailed with a piece of flesh, he went and 
informed the ape of it, as a treasure which, being found upon the 
waste, belonged to his majesty only. The ape, dreaming nothing 
of the matter, went very briskly to take possession, but had no 
sooner laid his paws upon the bait, than he was caught in the trap; 
where, betwixt shame and anger, he began to reproach the fox, 
called him rebel and traitor, and threatened to be revenged of him; 
at all which reynard laughed heartily; and going ofi", added with 
a sneer, " You a king, and not understand trap !" 

The Application. — A weak man should not aspire to be a king; 
for if he were, in the end, it would prove as inconvenient to himself 
as disadvantageous to the public. To be qualified for such an office, 
an office of the last importance to mankind, the person should be of 
distinguished prudence, and most unblemished integrity, too honest 
to impose upon others, and too penetrating to be imposed upon; 
thoroughly acquainted with the laws and genius of the realm he is 
to govern; brave, but not passionate; good-natured, but not soft; 
aspiring at just esteem; despising vain-glory; without superstition; 
without hypocrisy. 

When thrones have been filled by people of a different turn from 
this, histories show what a wretched figure they always made; what 
tools they were to particular persons, and what plagues to their sub- 
jects in general. 



XHe Fox and tlie Cra^w* 

A crow having taken a piece of cheese out of a cottage window, 
flew up into a high tree with it, in order to eat it. Which a fox 
observing, came and sat underneath, and began to compliment the 
crow upon the subject of her beauty, "I protest," says he, "I 
never observed it before, but your feathers are of a more delicate 
white than any that I ever saw in my life. Ah ! what a fine shape 
and graceful turn of body is there. And I make no question but 



^1 

you have a tolerable voice. If it is but as fine as your complexion, 
I do not know a bird that can pretend to stand in competition with 
you." The crow, tickled with this very civil language, nestled 
and wriggled about, and hardly knew where she was; but thinking 
the fox a little dubious as to the particular of her voice, and hav- 
ing a mind to set him right in that matter, began to sing, and in the 
same instant, let the cheese drop out of her mouth. This being 
what the fox wanted, he chopped it up in a moment, and trotted 
away, laughing to himself at the easy credulity of the crow. 

The Application. — They that love flattery (as it is to be feared 
too many do), are in a fair way to repent of their foible at the long 
run. And yet how few are there among the whole race of mankind, 
who may be said to be full proof against its attacks ! How many 
are tickled to the last degree with the pleasure of flattery, even 
while they are applauded for their honest detestation of it? there is 
no way to baffle the force of this engine, but by every one's examin- 
ing impartially for himself the true estimate of his own qualities: if 
he deals sincerely in the matter, nobody can tell so well as himself, 
what degree of esteem ought to attend any of his actions; and there- 
fore he should be entirely easy as to the opinion men are like to 
have of them in the world. If they attribute more to him than his 
due, they are either designing or mistaken; if they allow him less, 
they are envious, or possibly, still mistaken; and, in either case, are 
to be despised, or disregarded. For he that flatters without design- 
ing to make advantage of it, is a fool: and whoever encourages that 
flattery which he has sense enough to see through, is a vain cox- 
comb. 



The Lrion in Love. 

The lion, by chance, saw a fair maid, the forester's daughter, as 
she was tripping over a lawn, and fell in love with her. Nay, so 
violent was his passion, that he could not live unless he made her 
his own ; so that, without any more delay, he broke his mind to the 
father, and demanded the damsel for his wife. The man, as odd as 
the proposal seemed at first, yet soon recollected that by complying 
he might get the lion into his power, but by refusing him, should 
only exasperate and provoke his rage. Therefore he consented, but 



28 



told him it must be upon these conditions: that, considering the 
girl was young and tender, he must agree to let his teeth be plucked 
out, and his claws cut off, lest he should hurt her, or at least frighten 
her with the apprehensions of them. The lion was too much in 
love to hesitate ; but was no sooner deprived of his teeth and claws, 
than the treacherous forester attacked him with a huge club, and 
knocked his brains out. 

The Application. — Of all the ill consequences that may attend 
that blind passion, love, seldom may prove so fatal as that one, of 
its drawing people into a sudden and ill-concerted marriage. They 
commit a rash action in the midst of a fit of madness, of which, as soon 
as they come to themselves, they may find reason to repent as long 
as they live. Many an unthinking young fellow has been treated 
as much like a savage, in this respect, as the lion in the fable. He 
has, perhaps, had nothing valuable belonging to him but his estate, 
and the writings which make his title to it; and, if he is so far cap- 
tivated as to be persuaded to part with these, his teeth and his claws 
are gone, and he lies entirely at the mercy of madam and her 
relations. All the favor he is to expect after this is from the acci- 
dental goodness of the family he falls into; which, if it happen to 
be of a particular strain, will not fail to keep him in a distant sub- 
jection, after they have stripped him of all his power. Nothing but 
a true friendship, and a mutual interest, can keep up reciprocal love 
between the conjugal pair, and when that is wanting, and nothing 
but contempt and aversion remain to supply the place, matrimony 
becomes a downright state of enmity and hostility: and what a 
miserable case he must be in, who has put himself and his whole 
power into the hands of his enemy, let those consider, who, while 
they are in their sober senses, abhor the thoughts of being betrayed 
into their ruin, by following the impulse of a blind unheeding pas- 
sion. 



The Croiwr and tlie Pitclier. 

A crow, ready to die with thirst, flew with joy to a pitcher, which 
he beheld at some distance. When he came he found water in it 
indeed, but so near the bottom, that, with all his stooping and strain- 
ing, he was not able to reach it. Then he endeavored to overturn 
the pitcher, that so at last he might be able to get a little of it. But 



29 

his strength was not sufficient for this. At last, seeing some pebbles 
near the place, he cast them one by one into the pitcher, and thus, 
by degrees, raised the water up to the brim, and satisfied his thirst. 

The Application.— Many things which cannot be effected by 
strength, or by the usual way , may yet be brought about by some new 
and untried means. A man of segacity and penetration, upon en- 
countering a difficulty or two, does not immediately despau"; but if he 
cannot succeed one way, employs his wit and ingenuity another, and 
to avoid or get over an impediment, makes no scruple of stepping 
out of the path of his forefathers. Since our happiness, next to the 
regulation of our minds, depends altogether upon our having and 
enjoying the conveniences of life, why should we stand upon cere- 
mony about the methods of obtaining them, or pay any deference to 
antiquity upon that score ? If almost every age had not exerted 
itself in some new improvements, of its own, we should want a 
thousand arts, or, at least, many degrees of perfection in every art, 
which at present we are in possession of. The invention of any 
thing which is more commodious for the mind or body than what 
they had before, ought to be embraced readily, and the projector of 
it distinguished with a suitable encouragement. When we follow 
the steps of those who have gone before us in the old, beaten track 
of life, how do we differ from horses in a team, which are linked to 
each other by a chain of harness, and move on in a dull, heavy pace, 
to the tune of their leader's bells? But the man who enriches the 
present fund of knowledge with some new and useful improvement, 
like a happy adventurer at sea, discovers, as it were, an unknown 
land, and imports an additional trade into his own country. 



Hercules and tlie Carter. 

As a clownish fellow was driving his cart along a deep, miry lane, 
the wheels stuck so fast in the clay that the horses could not draw 
them out. Upon this he fell a bawling and praying to Hercules to 
come and help him. Hercules, looking down from a cloud, bid him 
not lie there like an idle rascal as he was, but get up and whip his 
horses stoutly, and clap his shoulder to the wheel, adding that this 
was the only way for him to obtain his assistance. 

The Application.— This fable shows us how vain and ill-ground- 
ed the expectations of those people are, who imagine they can obtain 



30 

whatever they want by importuning Heaven with their prayers; for 
it is so agreeable to the nature of the Divine Being, to be better 
pleased with virtuous actions and an honest industry than idle 
prayers, that it is a sort of blasphemy to say otherwise. We please 
God most when we are doing the most good; ond how can we do 
more good than by a sober, honest industry to provide for our house- 
hold, and endeavor to have to give to him that needeth. The man 
who is virtuously and honestly engaged, is actually serving God all 
the while; and is more likely to have his silent wishes, accompanied 
with strenuous endeavors, complied with by the Sapreme Being, 
than one who begs with a fruitless vehemence, and solicits with an 
empty hand: a hand which would be more religious were it usefully 
employed, and more devout were it stretched forth to do good to 
those that want it. 



Xlie Oak and tlie Reed. 

An oak, which hung over the bank of a river, was blown down 
by a violent storm of wind ; and as it was carried along by the 
stream, some of its boughs brushed against a reed, whick grew near 
the shore. This struck the oak with a thought of admiration; and 
he could not forbear asking the reed, how he came to stand so 
secure and unhurt in a tempest, which had been furious enough to 
tear an oak up by the roots? "Why," says the reed, "I secure 
myself by putting on a behavior quite contrary to what you do. 
Instead of being stubborn and stiff, and confiding in my strength, I 
yield and bend to the blast, and let it go over me, knowing how 
vain and fruitless it would be to resist it." 

The Application. — Though a tame submission to injuries, which 
it is in our power to redress, be generally esteemed a base and dishon- 
orable thing; yet to resist where there is no probability, or even hopes 
of our getting the better, may also be looked upon as the effect of a 
blind temerity, and perhaps of a weak understanding. The strokes 
of fortune are oftentimes as irresistible as they are severe; and he 
who with an impatient, reluctant spirit, fights against her, instead of 
alleviating, does but double her blows upon himself. A person of a 
quiet, still temper, whether it is given him by nature, or acquired by 
art, calmly reposes himself in the midst of a storm so as to elude the 
shock, or receive it with the least detriment; like a prudent, experi- 
enced sailor, who is swimming to the shore from a wrecked vessel 



31 

in a swelling sea, he does not oppose the fury of the waves; but 
stoops and gives way, that they may roll over his head without 
obstruction. The doctrine of absolute submission in all cases, is an 
absurd, dogmatical precept, with nothing but ignorance and super- 
stition to support it; but, upon particular occasions, and where it is 
impossible for us to overcome, to submit patiently is one of the most 
reasonable maxims in life. 



The Old Man and Death. 

A poor, feeble old man, who had crawled out into a neighboring 
wood to gather a few sticks, had made up his bundle, and laying it 
over his shoulders, was trudging homeward with it; but, what with 
age, and the length of the way, and the weight of his burden, he 
grew so faint and weak that he sank under it, and, as he sat on the 
ground, called upon death to come, once for all, and ease him of 
his troubles. Death no sooner heard him, but he came and de- 
manded of him what he wanted. The poor old creature, who little 
thought death had been so near, and frightened almost out of his 
senses with his terrible aspect, answered him, trembling, that having 
by chance let his bundle of sticks fall, and being too infirm to get it 
up himself; he had made bold to call upon him to help him ; that 
indeed this was all he wanted at present, and that he hoped his 
worship was not offended with him for the liberty he had taken in 
so doing. 

The Application, — This fable gives us a lively representation of 
the general behavior of mankind towards that grim king of terrors, 
death. Such liberties do they take with him behind his back, that, 
upon every little cross accident which happens in their way, death 
is immediately called upon; and they even wish it might be lawful 
for them to finish by their own hands a life so odious, so perpetually 
tormenting and vexatious. When, let but death only offer to make 
his appearance, and the very sense of his near approach almost does 
the business. Oh, then all they want is a little longer life; and 
they would be glad to come off so well, as to have their old burden 
laid upon their shoulders again. One may well conclude what an 
utter aversion they, who in youth, health, and vigor of body, have 
to dying, when age, poverty, and wretchedness, are not sufficient to 
reconcile us to the thought. 



32 



Xlie Mouse and tlie Weasel. 

A little, starved, thin rogue of a mouse, had, with much pushing 
and application, made his way through a small hole into a corn- 
basket, where he stuffed and crammed so plentifully, that when he 
would have retired the way he came, he found himself too plump, 
with all his endeavors, to accomplish it. A weasel, who stood at 
some distance, and had been diverting himself with beholding the 
vain efforts of the little, fat thing, called to him and said: " Hark 
ye, honest friend, if you have a mind to make your escape, there is 
but one way for it: contrive to grow as poor and as lean as you were 
when you entered, and then, perhaps you may get off." 

The Application. — They who, from a poor, mean condition, in- 
sinuate themselves into a good estate, are not always the most happy. 
There is, many times, a quiet and content attending a low life, to 
which a rich man is an utter stranger. Riches and cares are almost 
inseparable; and whoever would get rid of the one, must content 
himself to be divested of the other. He that has been acquainted 
with the sweets of life, free from the incumbrance of wealth, and 
longs to enjoy them again, must strip himself of that incumbrance, 
if ever he means to attain his wishes. 

Some, from creeping inlo the lowest station of life, have, in pro- 
cess of time, filled the greatest places in it; and grown so bulky by 
pursuing their insatiate appetite after money, that when they would 
have retired, they found themselves too opulent and full to get off. 
There has been no expedient for them to creep out, till they were 
squeezed and reduced, in some measure, to their primitive littleness. 
They that fill themselves with that which is the property of others, 
should always be so served before they are suffered to escape. 



The Lark and Her Young Ones. 

A lark, who had young ones in a field of corn which was almost 
ripe, was under some fears lest the reapers should come to reap it 
before the young brood were fledged, and able to remove from the 
place ; wherefore, upon flying abroad to look for food, she left this 
charge with them: That they should take notice what they heard 



3Z 

talked of in her absence, and tell her of it when she came back 
again. When she was gone, they heard the owner of the corn call 
to his son. " Well," says he, " I think this corn is ripe enough; I 
would have you go early to-morrow, and desire our friends and 
neighbors to come and help us to reap it." When the old lark came 
home, the young ones fell a quivering and chirping round her, and 
told her what had happened, begging her to remove them as fast as 
she could. The mother bid them be easy. "For," says she, "if 
the owner depends upon friends and neighbors, I am pretty sure the 
corn will not be reaped to-morrow." Next day she went out again 
upon the same occasion, and left the same orders with them as 
before. The owner came and stayed, expecting those he had sent 
to; but the sun grew hot, and nothing was done, fornot a soul came 
to help him. Then says he to his son, " I perceive these friends of 
ours are not to be depended upon, so that you must even go to your 
uncles and cousins, and tell them I desire they would be here be- 
times to-morrow morning to help us reap." W^ell, this the young 
ones, in a great fright, also reported to their mother. " If that be 
all," says she, "do not be frightened, children, for kindred and 
relations are not usually so very forward to serve one another; but 
take particular notice what you hear said next time, and be sure you 
let me know it." She went abroad the next day as usual; and the 
owner finding his relations as slack as the rest of his neighbors, said 
to his son, " Hark ye, George, do you get a couple of good sickles 
ready against to-morrow morning, and we will even reap the corn 
ourselves." When the young ones told their mother this, " Then," 
says she, " we must be gone indeed; for, when a man undertakes 
to do his business himself, it is not so likely that he will be disap- 
pointed." So she moved her young ones immediately, and the 
com was reaped the next day by the good man and his son. 

The Application. — Never depend upon the assistance of friends 
and relations in anything which you are able to do yourself, for noth- 
ing is more fickle and uncertain. The man who relies upon another 
for the execution of any affair of importance, is not only kept in a 
wretched and slavish suspense, while he expects the issue of the 
matter, but generally meets with a disappointment. While he who 
lays the chief stress of the business upon himself, and depends, upon 
his own industry and attention for the success of his affairs, is in the 



34 

fairest way to attain his end ; and if at last he should miscarry, has 
this to comfort him, that it was not through his own negligence, and 
a vain expectation of the assistance of friends. To stand by our- 
selves as much as possible, to exert our own strength and vigilance 
in the prosecution of our affairs, is godlike, being the result of a 
most noble and highly exalted reason ; but they who procrastinate 
and defer the business of life by an idle dependence upon others, in 
things which it is in their own power to effect, sink down into a kind 
of stupid, abject slavery, and show themselves unworthy of the 
talents with which human nature is dignified. 



The Man and tlie IJVeasel. 

A man had caught a weasel, and was just going to kill it. The 
poor creature, to escape death, cried out in a pitiful manner, "Ob, 
pray do not kill me, for I am useful to you, and keep your house 
clear from mice." "Why, truly," says the man, "if I thought you 
did it purely out of love for me, I should not only be inclined to 
pardon you, but think myself mightily obliged to you. But whereas 
you do not only kill them, but yourself do the same mischief they 
would do, in eating and gnawing my victuals, I desire you would 
place your insignificant services to some other account, and not to 
mine." Having said this, he took the wicked vermin, and strangled 
it immediately. 

The Application. — This fable is pointed at those who are apt 
to impute aciions which are done with a private view of their own, 
to their zeal for the public. This is the case of many a poor Grub- 
street writer; who, perhaps, is for no party but himself, and of no 
principle but what is subservient to his own interest: yet has the im- 
pudence to cry himself up for a quondam confessor of the cause that 
happens to flourish, a thorough honest man, who durst show him- 
self in the worst of times. And with this politic view, there are a 
hundred thousand men in the nation, well attached to which party 
you please, who are serving the interest of that side only, in their 
several capacities. By this way of working, they have a double 
advantage: first, as they procure to themselves a good number of 
constant customers of the same faction; and secondly, as they are 
entitled to some remote share in the government whenever their 



35 

faction succeeds. But such a pretence to favors is, in truth, little 
better than that of the weasel. Both may chance to have done the 
services they boast of; but as they Were principally Intended for the 
promotion of their own private affairs, whatever they might occasion- 
ally produce, cannot be a sufficient ground for them to raise any 
merit upon. A highwayman may as well plead in his own behalf, 
that he never robbed any but those who were enemies to the govern- 
ment, and men of unsound principles. But how absurd would such 
a pretence be ! 



The Stag and tlie Ox-stall, 

A stag, roused out of his thick cover in the midst of the forest, and 
driven hard by the hounds, made towards a farm-house, and seeing 
the door of an ox-stall open, entered therein, and hid himself under 
a heap cf straw. One of the oxen, turning his head about, asked 
him what he meant by venturing himself in such a place as that was, 
where he was sure to meet with his doom, "Ah !" says the stag, 
if you will be so good as to favor me with your concealment, I hope 
I shall do well enough ; I intend to make off again the first oppor- 
tunity." Well, he staid there till towards night; in came the ox-man 
with a bundle of fodder, and never saw him. In short, all the ser- 
vants of the farm came and went, and not a soul of them smelt any- 
thing of the matter. Nay, the bailiff himself came and looked in, 
but walked away no wiser than the rest. Upon this the stag, ready 
to jump out of his skin for joy, began to return thanks to the good- 
natured oxen, protesting that they were the most obliging people he 
had ever met with in his life. After he had done his compliments, 
one of them answered him gravely: "Indeed, we desire nothing 
more than to have it in our power to contribute to your escape; but 
there is a certain person you little think of, who has a hundred eyes; 
if he should happen to come, I would not give this straw for your 
life." In the interim, home comes the master himself, from a neigh- 
bor's, where he had been invited to dinner; and, because he had ob- 
served the cattle to look but scurvily of late, he went up to the rack, 
and asked why they did not give them more fodder; then, casting 
. his eyes downwards,, " hey day," says he, " why so sparing of your 



36 

litter? pray scatter a little more here. And these cobwebs — but 1 
have spoken so often, that unless I do it myself—" Thus, as he 
went on, prying into everything, he chanced to look where the stag's 
horns lay sticking out of the straw; upon which, he raised a hue and 
cry, calling all his people about him, killed the poor slag, and made 
a prize of him. 

The Application.— The moral of this fable is, that nobody 
looks after a man's affairs so well as himself. Servants being but 
hirelings, seldom have the true interest of their master at heart, but 
let things run on m a negligent, constant disorder; and this, gener- 
ally, not so much for want of capacity as honesty. Their heads are 
taken up with the cultivation of their own private interest; for the 
service and promotion of which, that of their master is postponed, 
and often entirely neglected. 

Few families are reduced to poverty and distress, merely by their 
own extravagance and indulgence in luxury ; the inattention of ser- 
vants swells every article of expense m domestic economy, and the 
retinue of great men, instead of exerting their industry to conduce 
as far as possible to the increase of their master's wealth, commonly 
exercise no other office than that of locusts and caterpillars to con- 
sume and devour it. 



Xlie Cag^le and tlie Beetle. 

A hare, being pursued by an eagle, betook himself for refuge to 
the nest of a beetle, whom he entreated to save him. The beetle, 
therefore, interceded with the eagle, begging of him not to kill the 
poor suppliant, and conjuring him, by mighty Jupiter, not to slight 
his intercession, and break the laws of hospitality because he was so 
small an animal. But the eagle, in Avrath, gave the beetle a flap 
with his wing, and straightway seized upon the hare and devoured 
him. When the eagle flew away, the beetle flew after him, to learn 
where his nest was, and getting into it, he rolled the eagle's eggs 
out of it, one by one, and broke them. The eagle, grieved and en- 
raged to think that anyone should attempt so audacious a thing, 
built his nest the next time in a higher place; but there, too, the 
beetle got at it again, and served him in the same manner as before. 
Upon this the eagle, being at a loss what to do, flew up to Jupiter, 



Z1 

his lord and king, and placed the third brood of eggs, as a sacred 
deposit, in his lap, begging him to guard them for him. But the 
beetle, having made a little ball of dirt, flew up with it and dropped 
it in Jupiter's lap; who, rising up on a sudden to shake it off, and 
forgetting the eggs, threw them down, and they were again broken. 
Jupiter being informed by the beetle that he had done this to be 
revenged upon the eagle, who had not only wronged him, but had 
acted impiously towards Jove himself, told the eagle when he came 
to him, that the beetle was the aggrieved party, and that he com- 
plained not without reason. But being unwilling that the race of 
eagles should be diminished, he advised the beetle to come to an ac- 
commodation with the eagle. As the beetle would not agree to this, 
Jupiter transferred the eagle's breeding to another season, when there 
are no beetles to be seen. 

The Application.— No one can slight the laws of hospitality 
with impunity; and there is no station or influence, however power- 
ful, that can protect the oppressor, in the end. from the vengeance 
of the oppressed. 



Xlie Belly and tlie Members. 

In former days, when the belly and the other parts of the body 
enjoyed the faculty of speech, they had separate views and designs 
of their own; each part, it seems, in particular for himself, and in 
the name of the whole, took exception at the conduct of the belly, 
and were resolved to grant him supplies no longer. They said 
they thought it very hard, that he should lead an idle, good-for- 
nothing life, spending and squandering away upon himself all the 
fruits of their labor; and that, in short, they were resolved for the 
future to strike off his allowance, and let him shift for himself as 
well as he could. The hands protested they would not lift up a fin- 
ger to keep him from starving; and the mouth wished he might never 
speak again, if he took in the least bit of nourishment for him as 
long as he lived. "And," say the teeth, "may we be rotted, if ever 
we chew a morsal for him for the future." This solemn league and 



38 

covenant was kept as long as anything of that kind can be kept, 
which was until each of the rebel members pined away to skin and 
bone, and could hold out no longer. Then they found there was 
no doing without the belly, and that, as idle and insignificant as he 
seemed, he contributed as much to the maintenance and welfare of 
all the other parts, as they did to his. 

The Application. — This fable was spoken by Menenius Agrippa, 
a famous Roman consul and general, when he was deputed by the 
Senate to appease a dangerous tumult and insurrection of the people. 
The many wars that naiion was engaged in, and the frequent sup- 
plies they were obliged to raise, had so soured and inflamed the 
mind of the populace, that they were resolved to endure it no longer, 
and obstinately refused to pay the taxes which were levied upon them. 
It is easy to discern how the great man applied this fable. For if the 
branches and members of a community refuse the government that 
aid which its necessaries require, the whole must perish together. 
The rulers cf a state, as idle and insignificant as they may some- 
times seem, are yet as necessary to be kept up and maintained in a 
proper and decent grandeur, as the family of each private person is, 
in a condition suitable to itself. Every man's enjoyment of that 
little which he gains by his daily labor, depends upon the govern- 
ment being maintained in a condition to defend and secure him in it. 



Xlie Peacock: and the Crane. 

The peacock and the crane by chance met together in one place. 
The peacock, erecting his tail, displayed his gaudy plumes, and 
looked with contempt upon the crane, as some mean, ordinary per- 
son. The crane, resolving to mortify his insolence, took occasion to 
say, that peacocks were very fine birds indeed, if fine feathers could 
make them so; but that he thought it a much nobler thing to be able 
to rise above the clouds, than to strut about upon the ground, and 
be gazed at by children and silly people. 

The Application. — It is very absurd to slight or insult another 
upon his wanting what we possess, for he may, for anything we 
know, have a just reason to triumph over us, by being master of 
some good quality which we have not. But in regard to the fable 
before us, that which the peacock values himself upon, the glitter 



39 

and finery of dress, is one of the most trifling considerations in na- 
ture, and what a man of sense would be ashamed to reckon, even as 
the least part of merit. The mind which is stored with virtuous 
and rational sentiments, and the behavior which speaks compla- 
cence and humility, stamps an estimate upon the possessor which all 
judiciouj spectators are ready to admire and acknowledge. But if 
there be any merit in a handsome coat, a showy waistcoat, a shoe, a 
stocking, or a sword-knot, the person that wears them has the least 
claim to it; let it be ascribed where it justly belongs, to the several 
artizans who wrought or disposed the materials of which they con- 
sist. This moral is not intended to derogate anything from the mag- 
nificence of fine clothes and rich equipages, which, as times and cir- 
cumstances require, may be used with decency and propriety enough; 
but one cannot help being concerned, lest any worth should be 
affixed to them more than their own intrinsic value. 



Xlie Ant and tlie Qrassliopper. 

In the winter season, a commonwealth of ants were busily em- 
ployed in the management and preservation of their corn; which 
they exposed to the air m heaps round about the avenues of their 
little country habitation. A grasshopper, who had chanced to out- 
live the summer, and was ready to starve with cold and hunger, 
approached them with great humility, and begged that they would 
relieve his necessity with one grain of wheat or rye. One of the 
ants asked him how he had disposed of his time in summer, that 
he had not taken pains, and laid in a stock, as they had done? 
"Alas, gentlemen," says he, '* I passed away the time merrily and 
pleasantly, in drinking, singing, and dancing, and never once 
thought of winter." "If that be the case," replied the ant, laugh- 
ing, "all I have to say, is, that they who drink, sing, and dance in 
the summer must starve in winter." 

The Application. — As summer is the season of the year in which 
the industrious and laborious husbandman gathers and lays up such 
fruits as may supply his necessities in winter, so youth and manhood 
are the times of life which we should employ and bestow in laying in 
such a stock of all kinds of necessaries as may suffice for the crav- 
ing demands of helpless old age. Yet, notwithstanding the truth of 



40 

this, there are many of those which we call rational creatures, who 
live in a method quite opposite to it, and make it their business to 
squander away, in a profuse prodigality, whatever they get in their 
younger days: as if the infirmity of age would require no supplies 
to support it; or, at least, would find them administered to in some 
miraculous way. From this fable we learn this admirable lesson, 
never to loose any present opportunity of providing against the 
future evils and accidents of life. While health and the flower and 
vigor of our age remani firm and entire, let us lay them out to the 
best advantage, that, when the latter days take hold of us, and 
spoil us of our strength and abilities, we may have a store moder- 
ately sufficient to subsist upon, which we laid up in the morning of 
our age. 



Xlie Hirds^ the Beasts^ and tlie 
Bat. 

Once upon a time there commenced a fierce war between the birds 
and the beasts; when the bat, taking advantage of his ambiguous 
make, hoped, by that means, to live secure in a state of neutrality, 
and save his bacon. It was not long before the forces on each side 
met, and gave battle; and, their animosities running very high, a 
bloody slaughter ensued. The bat, at the beginning of the day, 
thinking the birds most likely to carry it, listed himself among them; 
but kept fluttering at a little distance, that he might the better ob- 
serve, and take his measures accordingly. However, after some 
time spent in the action, the army of the beasts seeming to prevail, 
he went entirely over to them, and endeavored to convince them, by 
the affinity which he had to a mouse, that he was by nature a beast, 
and would always continue firm and true to their interest. His plea 
was admitted; but, in the end, the advantage turning completely on 
the side of the birds, under the admirable conduct and courage of 
their general, the eagle; the bat, to save his life, and escape the 
disgrace of falling into the hands of his deserted friends, betook him- 
self to flight; and ever since, skulking in caves and hollow trees all 
day, as if ashamed to show himself, he never appears till the dusk 
of the evening, when all the feathered inhabitants of the air are 
gone to roost. 



41 

The Application.— For any one to desert the interest of his coun- 
try, and turn renegado, either out of fear, or any prospect of advan- 
tage, is so notoriously vile and low, that it is no wonder if the man, who 
is detected in it, is forever ashamed to see the sun, and to show him- 
self in the eyes of those vv^hose cause he has betrayed. Yet, as there 
is scarce any vice, even to be imagined, but there may be found men 
who have been guilty of it, perhaps there have been as many 
criminals in the case before us, as in any one particular besides, 
notwithstanding the aggravation and extraordinary degree of its 
baseness. We cannot help reflecting upon it with horror: but, as 
truly detestable as this vice is, and must be acknowledged to be by 
all mankind, so far as those that practise it from being treated with 
a just resentment by the rest of mankind, that by the kmd reception 
they afterwards meet with, they rather seem to be encouraged and 
applauded, than despised and discountenanced, for it. 



Xlie Country Mouse and the 
City Mouse. 

An honest, plain, sensible country mouse, is said to have enter- 
tained at his hole one day a fine mouse of the town. Having 
formerly been playfellows together, they were old acquaintance, 
which served as an apology for the visit. Plowever, as master of 
the house, he thought himself obliged to do the honors of it, in all 
respects, and to make as great a stranger of his guest as he possibly 
could. In order to do this, he set before him a reserve of delicate 
gray peas and bacon, a dish of fine oatmeal, some parings of new 
cheese, and, to crown all with a dessert, a remnant of a charming 
mellow apple. In good manners, he forbore to eat any himself, lest 
the stranger should not have enough; but, that he might seem to 
bear the other company, sat and nibbled a piece of a wheaten straw 
very busily. At last says the spark of the town, " Old crony, give 
me leave to be a little free with you ; how can you bear to live in 
this nasty, dirty, melancholy hole here, with nothing but woods 
and meadows, and mountains, and rivulets, about you ? Do not you 
prefer the conversation of the world to the chirping of birds, and the 
splendor of a court to the rude aspect of an uncultivated desert? 
Come, take my word for it, you will find it a change for the better. 



42 



Never stand considering, but away this moment. Remember, we 
are not immortal, and therefore have no time to lose. Make sure 
of to-day, and spend it as agreeably as you can; you know not 
what may happen to-morrow." In short, these and such like argu- 
ments prevailed, and his country acquaintance was resolved to go to 
town that night. So they both set out upon their journey together, 
proposing to sneek in after the close of the evening. They did so; 
and about midnight, made their entry into a certain great house, 
where there had been an extraordinary entertainment the day before, 
and several tit-bits, which some of the servants had purloined, were 
hid under the seat of a window. The country guest was immedi- 
ately placed ia the midst of a rich Persian carpet: and now it was 
the courtier's turn to entertain; who, indeed, acquitted himself in 
that capacity with the utmost readiness and address, changing the 
courses as elegantly, and tasting everything first as judiciously as 
any clerk of a kitchen. The other sat and enjoyed himself like a 
delighted epicure, tickled to the last degree with this new turn of 
his affairs; when, on a sudden, a noise of somebody opening the 
door made them start from their seats and scuttle in confusion about 
the dining-room. Our country friend, in particular, was ready to 
die with fear at the barking of a huge mastiff or two, which opened 
their throats just about the same time, and made the whole house 
echo. At last, recovering himself, "Well," says he, "if this be 
your town life, much good may do you with it: give me my poor 
quiet hole again, with my homely, but comfortable gray peas." 

The Application. — A moderate fortune, with a quiet retirement 
in the country, is preferable to the greatest affluence which is attend- 
ed with care and the perplexity of business, and inseparable from the 
noise and hurry of the town. The practice of the generality of 
people of the best taste, it is to be owned, is directly against us in 
this point; but, when it is considered that this practice of theirs 
proceeds rather from a compliance with the fashion of the times, 
than their own private thoughts, the objection is of no force. 
Among the great numbers of men who have received a learned 
education, how few are there but either have their fortunes entirely 
to make, or, at least, think they deserve to have, and ought not to 
lose the opportunity of getting somewhat more than their fathers have 
left them ! The town is the field of action for volunteers of this 
kind ; and whatever fondness they may have for the country, yet 



43 

they must stay till their circumstances will admit of a retreat thither. 
But sure there never was a man yet who lived in a constant return 
of trouble and fatigue in town, as all men of business do in some 
degree or other, but has formed to himself some end of getting some 
sufficient competency which may enable him to purchase a quiet 
possession in the country, where he may indulge his genius, and 
give up his old age to that easy smooth life, which, in the tempest 
of business, he had so often longed for. Can anything argue more 
strongly for a country life, than to observe what a long course of 
labor people go through, and what difficulties they encounter, to 
come at it ? They look upon it, at a distance, like a kind of heaven, 
a place of rest and happiness: and are pushing forward through the 
rugged thorny cares of the world, to make theif way towards it. 
If there are many, who, though born to plentiful fortunes, yet live 
most part of their time in the noise, the smoke, and hurry of the 
town, we shall fiad, upon inquiry, that necessary indispensable busi- 
ness is the real or pretended plea which most of them have to make 
for it. The court and the senate require the attendance of some: 
lawsuits, and the proper direction of trade, engage others: they who 
have a sprightly wit and an elegant taste for conversation will resort 
to the place which is frequented by people of the same turn, what- 
ever aversion they may otherwise have for it; and others, who have 
no such pretence, have yet this to say, that they follow the fashion. 
They who appear to have been men of the best sense amongst the 
ancients, always recommended the country as the most proper scene 
for innocence, ease, and virtuous pleasure; and, accordingly, lost no 
opportunities of enjoying it: and men of the greatest distinction 
among the moderns, have ever thought themselves most happy when 
they could be decently spared from the employments which the 
excellency of their talents necessarily threw them into, to embrace 
the charming leisure of a country life. 



Cupid and Oeatli. 

Cupid, one sultry summer's noon, tired with play, and faint with 
heat, went into a cool grotto to repose himself, which happened to 
be the cave of Death. He threw himself carelessly down on the 
floor, and his quiver turning topsy-turvy, all the arrows fell out, and 
mingled with those of Death, which lay scattered up and down the 
place. When he awoke, he gathered them up as well as he could; 
but they were so intermingled that, though he knew the certain 



44 

number, he could not rightly distinguish them ; from which it hap- 
pened that he took up some of the arrows which belonged to Death, 
and left several of his own in the room of them. This is the cause 
that we, now and then, see the hearts of the old and decrepit trans- 
fixed with the bolts of Love ; and with equal grief and surprise 
behold the youthful blooming part of our species smitten with the 
darts of Death. 

The Application. — If we allow for this fable's being written by a 
heathen, and according to the scheme of the ancient pagan theology, 
it will appear to be a pretty probable solution of some parts of the 
dispensation of Providence, which otherwise seem to be obscure and 
unaccountable. For, when we see the young and the old fall pro- 
miscuously by the hand of Death, and at the same time consider 
that the world is governed by an all-wise Providence, we are puzzled 
how to account for so seemingly preposterous and unnatural way of 
working. We should look upon a gardener to be mad, or at least 
very capricious, who, when his young trees are just arrived to a 
degree of bearing, should cut them down for fuel, and choose out 
old, rotten, decayed, sapless stocks to graft and inoculate upon: yet 
the irregular proceedings of those two levellers. Love and Death, 
appear to be every jot as odd and unreasonable. However, we must 
take it for granted that these things, though the method of them is 
hidden from our eyes, are transacted after the most just and fit 
manner imaginable: but, humanly speaking, it is strange that Death 
should be suffered to make such undistinguished havoc in the world; 
and, at the same time, just as shocking and unnatural to see old age 
laid betwixt a pair of wedding sheets, as it is for youth and beauty 
to be locked up in the cold embraces of the grave. 



Xlie Cocli and tlie Jei^vel. 

A brisk young cock , in company with two or three pullets, his 
mistresses, raking upon a dunghill for something to entertain them 
with, happened to scratch up a jewel. He knew what it was well 
enough, for it sparkled with an exceeding bright lustre; but, not 
knowing what to do with it, endeavored to cover his ignorance under 
a gay contempt; so, shrugging up his wings, shaking his head, and 
putting on a grimace, he expressed himself to this purpose: " Indeed, 
you are a very fine thing; but I know not any business you have 



45 

here. I make no scruple of declaring that my taste lies quite 
another way; and I had rather have one grain of dear delicious 
barley, than all the jewels under the sun." 

The Application.^ — There are several people in the work! that 
pass, with some, for well accomplished gentlemen, and very pretty 
ifellows, though they are as great strangers to the true uses of virtue and 
knowledge as the cock upon the dunghill is to the real value of the 
jewel. He palliates his ignorance by pretending that his taste lies 
another way. But, whatever gallant airs people may give themselves 
upon these occasions, without dispute, the solid advantages of virtue, 
and the durable pleasures of learning, are as much to be preferred 
before other objects of the senses, as the finest brilliant diamond is 
above a barley-corn. The greatest blockheads would appear to 
understand what at the same time they affect to despise: and nobody 
yet was ever so vicious, as to have the impudence to declare, in 
public, that virtue was not a fine thing. 

But still, among the idle, sauntering young fellows of the age, 
who have leisure as well to cultivate and improve the faculties of the 
mind, as to dress and embellish the body, how many are there who 
spend their days in raking after new scenes of debauchery, in com- 
parison of those few who know how to relish more reasonable enter- 
tainments ! Honest, undesigning good sense is so unfashionable, that 
he must be a bold man who, at this time of the day, attempts to bring 
it into esteem. 

How disappointed is the youth who, in the midst of his amorous 
pursuits, endeavoring to plunder an outside of bloom and beauty, 
finds a treasure of impenetrable virtue concealed within ! And why 
may it not be said, how delighted are the fair sex when, from 
among a crowd of empty, frolic, conceited admirers, they find out, 
and distinguish with their good opinion, a man of sense, with a plain 
unaffected person, which, at first sight, they did not like ! 



Xlie Old Hound. 

An old hound, who had been an excellent good one in his time, 
and given his master great sport, and satisfaction in many a chase, 
at last, by the effect of years, became feeble and unserviceable. 
However, being in the field one day, when the stag was almost run 
down, he happened to be the first that came in with him, and seized 
him by one of his haunches; but, his decayed and broken teeth not 



46 

being able to keep their hold, the deer escaped, and threw hina quite 
out. Upon which his master, being in a great passion, and going to 
strike him, the honest old creature is said to have barked out his 
apology: "Ah! do not strike your poor old servant; it is not my 
heart and inclination, but my strength and speed, that fail me. If 
what I now am displeases, pray don't forget what I have been." 

The Application. — This fable may serve to give us a general 
view of the ingratitude of the greatest part of mankind. Notwith- 
standing all the civility and complaisance that is used among people 
where there is a common intercourse of business, yet let the main- 
spring, the probability of their being serviceable to each other, either 
in point of pleasure or profit, be but once broken, and farewell 
courtesy: so far from continuing any regard in behalf of past favors, 
it is very well if they forbear doing anything that is injurious. If 
the master had only ceased to caress and make much of the old 
hound, when he was past doing any service, it had not been very 
strange; but to treat a pocr creature ill, not for a failure of inclina- 
tion, but merely a defect of nature, must, notwithstanding the crowd 
of examples there are to countenance it, be pronounced inhuman 
and unreasonable. 

There are two accounts upon which people that have been useful 
are frequently neglected. One, when they are so decayed, either 
through age or some accident, that they are no longer able to do 
the services they have formerly done; the oLher, when the occasion 
or emergency which required such talents, no longer exists. Phae- 
drus, who more than once complains of the bad consequences of age, 
makes no other application to this fable than by telling his friend 
Philetus, with some regret, that he wrote it with such a view; having, 
it seems, been repaid with neglect, or worse usage, for services done 
in his youth to those who were then able to afford him a better 
recompense. 



Xlie Pox and tlie Sicli Lrion. 

It was reported that the lion was sick, and the beasts were made 
to believe that they could not make their court better than by going 
to visit him. Upon this they generally went; but it was particularly 
taken notice of, that the fox was not one of the number. The lion 
therefore dispatched one of the jackalls to sound him about it, and 
ask him why he had so little charity and respect, as never to come 



47 

near him, at a time when he lay so dangerously ill, and everybody 
else had been to see him ? ' 'Why, ' ' replies the fox, ' ' pray present my 
duty to his majesty^ and tell him, that I have the same regard for 
him as ever, and have been coming several times to kiss his royal 
hand: but I am so terribly frightened at the mouth of his cave, to 
see the print of my fellovi^-subjects' feet, all pointing forwards 
and none backwards, that I have not resolution enough to venture 
in." Now the truth of the matter was, that this sickness of the 
lion's was only a sham to draw the beasts into his den, the more 
easily to devour them. 

The Application. — A man should weigh and consider the nature 
of any proposal well before he gives in to it ; for a rash and hasty com- 
pliance has been the ruin of many a one. And it is the quintessence 
of prudence not to be too easy of belief. Indeed, the multitude 
think altogether in the same track, and are much upon a footing. 
Their meditations are confined to one channel, and they follow one 
another, very orderly, in a regular stupidity. Can a man of thought 
and spirit be harnessed thus, and trudge along like a pack-horse, in 
a deep, stinking, muddy road, when he may frisk it over the beau- 
teous lawns, or lose himself agreeably in the shady verdant mazes 
of unrestrained contemplation ? It is impossible. Vulgar notions 
are so generally attended with error, that wherever one traces the 
footsteps of the many, tending all one way, it is enough to naake 
one suspect, with the fox in the fable, that there is some trick in it. 
The eye of reason is dulled and stupefied when it is confined, and 
made to gaze continually upon the same thing: it rather chooses to 
look about it, and amuse itself with variety of objects, as they he 
scattered up and down in the unbounded prospect. He that goes 
implicitly into a thing, may be mistaken, notwithstanding the num- 
ber of those who keep him company ; but he that keeps out till he 
sees reason to enter, acts upon true maxims of policy and prudence. 
In short, it becomes us as we are reasonable creatures, to behave 
ourselves as such, and to do as few things as possible, of which we 
may have occasion to repent. 

Xlie Hawk and tlie Nightin- 
gale. 

A nightingale, sitting all alone among the shady branches of an 
oak, sung with so melodious and shrill a pipe, that she made the 
woods echo again, and alarmed a hungry hawk, who was at some 



48 

distance off watching for his prey: he had no sooner discovered the lit- 
tle musician, but making a stoop at the place, he seized her with his 
crooked talons, and bid her prepare for death. "Ah ! " says she, 
"for mercy's sake don't do so barbarous a thing, and so unbecoming 
yourself; consider, I never did you any wrong, and am but a poor 
small morsal for such a stomach as yours; rather attack some larger 
fowl, which may bring you more credit and a better meal, and let me 
go." "Ah !" says the hawk, " persuade me to it if you can: I have 
been upon the watch all day long, and have not met with one bit of 
anything till I caught you ; and now you would have me let you go, 
in hopes of something better, would you ? pray, who would be the 
fool then?" 

The Application. — They who neglect the opportunity of reap- 
ing a small advantage, in hopes they shall obtain a better, are far 
from acting upon a reasonable and well-advised foundation. The 
figure of Time is always drawn with a single lock of hair hanging 
over his forehead, and the back part of his head bald; to put us in 
mind that we should be sure to lay hold of an occasion, when it pre- 
sents itself to us, lest afterwards we repent us of our omission and 
folly, and would recover it when it is too late. It is a very weak 
reason to give for our refusal of an offer of kindness, that we do it 
because we desire or deserve a better; for it is time enough to relin- 
quish the small affair when the great one comes, if ever it does come. 
But, supposing it should not, how can we forgive ourselves for letting 
anything slip through our hands, by vainly gaping after something 
else, which we never could obtain ? He who has not been guilty of 
any of these kind of errors, however poorly he may come off at last, 
has only the malice of fortune, or of somebody else, to charge with 
his ill success; and may applaud himself with some comfort, in never 
having lost an opportunity, though ever so small, of bettering and 
improving his circumstances. Unthinking people have oftentimes 
the unhappiness to fret and tease themselves with retrospects of this 
kind, which they, who attend to the business of life as they ought, 
never have occasion to make. 



Xlie Leopard and tlie Fox. 

The leopard one day took it into his head to value himself upon the 
great variety and beauty of his spots, and truly he saw no reason 



49 

why even the lion should take place of him, since he could not 
show so beautiful a skin. As for the rest of the wild beasts of the 
forest, he treated them all, without distinction, in the most haughty 
and disdainful manner. But the fox being among them, went up 
to him with a great deal of spirit and resolution, and told him, that 
he was mistaken in the value he was pleased to set upon himself; 
since people of judgment were not used to form their opinion of 
merit from an outside appearance, but by considering the good qual- 
ities and endowments with which the mind was stored within. 

The Application. — How much more heavenly and powerful 
would beauty prove, if it were not frequently impaired by the affecta- 
tion and conceitedness of its possessor ! If some women were but as 
modest aud unassuming as they are handsome, they might command 
the hearts of all that behold them: but nature seemed to foresee, and 
has provided against such an inconvenience, by tempering its great 
masterpieces with a due proportion of pride and vanity; so that 
their power, depending upon the duration of their beauty only, is 
like to be but of a short continuance ; which, when they happen to 
prove tyrants, is no small comfort to us; and then, even while it lasts, 
will abate much of its severity by the allay of those two prevailing 
ingredients. Wise men are chiefly captivated with the charms of the 
mind; and whenever they are infatuated with a passion for anything 
else, it is generally observed that they cease, during that time at 
least, to be what they were, and are indeed looked upon to be only 
playing the fool. If the fair ones we have been speaking of have a 
true ascendant over them, they will oblige them to divest themselves 
of common sense, and to talk and act ridiculously, before they can 
think them worthy of the least regard. Should one of these fine 
creatures be addressed in the words of Juba, 

'T is not a set of features or complexion, 
The tincture of a skin that I admire. 
Beauty soon grows familiar to the lover. 
Fades in his eye, and palls upon the sense. 
The virtuous Marcia towers above her sex. 
True, she is fair! oh, how divinely fair ! 
But still the lovely maid improves her charms 
With inward greatness, unaffected wisdom. 
And sanctity of manners. 

the man that should venture the success of a strong passion upon 
the construction she would put upon such a compliment, might have 
reason to repent of his conduct. 



50 



Tlie Old Man and His Sons. 

An old man had many sons, who were often fallmg out with one 
another. When the father had exerted his authority, and used 
other means in order to reconcile Ihem, and all to no purpose, at last 
he had recourse to this expedient: he ordered his sons to be called 
before him, and a short bundle of sticks to be brought, and then 
commanded them, one by one, to try if, with all their might and 
strength, they could any of them break it. They all tried, but to 
no purpose; for the sticks being closely and compactly bound up to- 
gether, it was impossible for the force of man to do it. After this, 
the father ordered the bundle to be untied , and gave a single stick 
to each of his sons, at the same time bidding him try to break it: 
which, when each did with all imaginable ease, the father addressed 
himself to them to this effect: <'0 my sons, behold the power of 
unity ! for if you, in like manner, would but keep yourselves strictly 
conjoined in the bonds of friendship, it would not be in the power of 
any mortal to hurt you ; but when once the ties of brotherly affection 
are dissolved, how soon do you fall to pieces, and are liable to be 
violated by every injurious hand that assaults you !" 

The Application. — Nothing is more necessary towards complet- 
ing and continuing the well-being of mankind, than their entering into 
and preserving friendships and alliances. The safety of a govern- 
ment depends chiefly upon this; and therefore it is weakened and 
exposed to its enemies, in proportion as it is divided by parties. "A 
kingdom divided against itself is brought to desolation:" and the 
same holds good among all societies and corporations of men from 
the constitution of the nation down to every little parochial vestry. 
But the necessity of friendship extends itself to all sorts of relations 
in life, as it conduces mightily to the advantage of particular clans 
and famihes. Those of the same blood and lineage have a natural 
disposition to unite together, which they ought by all means to culti- 
vate and improve. It must be a great comfort to people, when they 
fall under any calamity, to know there are many others who 
sympathize with them; a great load of grief is mightily lessened, 
when it is parceled out into many shares. And then joy, of all our 
passions, loves to be communicative, and generally increases in pro- 
portion to the number of those who partake of it with us. We defy 
the threats and malice of an enemy, when we are assured that he 
cannot attack us single, but must encounter a bundle of allies at the 



51 

same time. But they that behave themselves so as to have few or 
no friends in the world, live in perpetual fear and jealousy of 
mankind, because they are sensible of their own weakness, and know 
themselves liable to be crushed, or broken to pieces, by the first ag- 
gressor. 



The Progs and Jupiter. 

The frogs, living an easy, free life everywhere among the lakes 
and ponds, assembled together one day, in a very tumultuous man- 
ner, and petitioned Jupiter to let them have a king, who might 
inspect their morals, and make them live a little honester. Jupiter, 
being at that time in pretty good humor, was pleased to laugh 
heartily at their ridiculous request; and, throwing a little log down 
mto the pool, cried, "There is a king for you." The sudden splash 
which this made by its fall into the water, at first terrified them so 
exceedingly, that they were afraid to come near it. But in a little 
time, seeing it lay still without moving, they ventured, by degrees, 
to approach it ; and at last, finding there was no danger, they leaped 
upon it; and, in short, treated it as familiarly as they pleased. But 
not contented with so insipid a king as this was, they sent their 
deputies to petition again for another sort of one; for this they 
neither did nor could like. Upon that he sent them a Stork, who, 
without any ceremony, fell a devouring and eating them up, one 
after another, as fast as he could. Then they applied themselves 
privately to Mercury, and get him to speak to Jupiter in their behalf, 
that he would be so good as to bless them again with another king, 
or to restore them to their former state. '* No " says he, " since it 
was their own choice, let the obstinate wretches suffer the punish- 
ment due to their folly." 

The Application. — It is pretty extraordinary to find a fable of 
this kind finished with so bold and yet polite a turn by Phtedrus: one 
who attained his freedom by the favor of Augustus, and wrote it in the 
time of Tiberius; who were, successively, tyrannical usurpers of the 
Roman government. If we may take his word for it, /Esop spoke 
it upon this occasion. When the commonwealth of Athens flour- 
ished under good wholesome laws of its own enacting, they relied 



52 

so much upon the security of their liberty, that they negligently 
suffered it to run into licentiousness. And factions happening 
to be fomented among them by designing people, much about 
the same time, Pisistratus took that opportunity to make himself 
master of their citadel and liberties both together. The Athenians 
finding themselves in a state of slavery, though their tyrant hap- 
pened to be a very merciful one, yet could not bear the thoughts of 
it ; so that ^sop, where there was no remedy, prescribes to them 
patience, by the example of the foregoing fable; and adds, at last, 
"Wherefore, my dear countrymen, be contented with your present 
condition, bad as it is, for fear a change should be worse." 



Xlie Young Man and tlie S^w^al- 
low. 

A prodigal young spendthrift, who had wasted his whole patri- 
mony in taverns and gaming-houses, among lewd, idle company, was 
taking a melancholy walk near a brook. It was in the month of Jan- 
uary ; and happened to be one of those warm sunshiny days which 
sometimes smile upon us even in that winterly season of the year; and, 
to make it the more flattering, a swallow, which made his appearance, 
by mistake, too soon, flew skimming along upon the surface of the 
water. The giddy youth observing this, without any further con- 
sideration, concluded that summer was now come, and that he should 
have little or no occasion for clothes, so went and pawned them at 
the broker's, and ventured the money for one stake more, among his 
sharping companions. When this too was gone the same way with 
the rest, he took another solitary walk in the same place as before. 
But the weather being severe and frosty, had made everything look 
with an aspect very different from what it did before; the brook was 
quite frozen over, and the poor swallow lay dead upon the bank of 
it: the very sight of which cooled the young spark's brains; and 
coming to a kind of sense of his misery, he reproached the deceased 
bird as the author of all his misfortunes. *'Ah, wretch that thou 
wert!" says he, "thou hast undone both thyself and me, who was 
so credulous as to depend upon thee." 

The Application. — They who frequent taverns and gaming- 
houses, and keep bad company, should not wonder if they are 



■53 

reduced, in a very short time, to penury and want. The wretched 
young fellows, who once addict themselves to such a scandalous kind 
of life ; scarce think of, or attend to, any one thing besides. They 
seem to have nothing else in their heads, but how they may squander 
what they have got, and where they may get more when that is gone. 
They do not make the same use of their reason that other people do; 
but, like the jaundiced eye, view everything in that false light in 
which their distemper and debauchery represent it. The young 
man in the fable gives us a pretty example of this; he sees a swal- 
low in the midst of winter, and instead of being surprised at it, as a 
very irregular and extraordinary thing, concludes from thence that it 
is summer, as if he had never thought before about the season. 
Well, the result of this wise conclusion is of a piece with the conclu- 
sion itself; if it is summer, he shall not want so many clothes, 
therefore he sells them: for what? More money to squander away; 
as if (had his observation been just) summer would have lasted all 
the year round. But the true result and conclusion of all this is — 
when both his money and clothes are irrecoverably gone, he comes 
to his right senses; is ready to starve with hunger, to perish with 
cold, and to tear his own flesh with remorse and vexation at his 
former stupidity. 



The Young Man and His Cat. 

A certain young man used to play with a cat, of which he grew so 
fond, that at last he fell in love with it, and to such a degree, that 
he could rest neither night nor day for the excess of his passion. 
At last he prayed to Venus, the goddess of beauty , to pity him and 
relieve his pain. The good-natured goddess was propitious, and 
heard his prayers: before he rose up from kneeling, the cat, which he 
held in his arms, was transformed into a beautiful girl. The youth 
was transported with joy, and married her that very day. At night 
they went to bed, and as the new bride lay encircled in the em-^ 
braces of her amorous husband, she unfortunately heard a mouse 
behind the hangings, and sprung from his arms to pursue it. Venus, 
offended to see her sacred rites profaned by such an indecent be- 
havior, and perceiving that her new convert, though a woman in 
outward appearance, was a cat in her heart , she made her return to 
her old form again, that her manners and person might \^e agreeable 
to each other. 



54 

The Application. — People, as to their manners and behavior, 
take a strong bias from custom and education, but a much stronger 
from nature. Her laws are so strong, that it is in vain for us to go 
to oppose them; we may refine and improve, but can never totally 
alter her works. Upon this account it is that we oftentimes see silly 
awkward blockheads displaying their idiotism and folly through all 
their ensigns of dignity ; for some natures are so coarse and rustic, 
that all the embroidery of a court cannot conceal them. Doubtless 
such people were intended by nature for nothing above driving hogs 
to a fair, and laughing at the jokes of a country merry-Andrew. 
Fortune has found them worthy of her favors, and given them a lift 
out of the mire: but yet they do not fail to give frequent indications 
of their true composition, by a thousand dirty little actions. A fine 
equipage, and a great estate, may raise a man to an exalted station, 
and procure a respect to his outward person; notwithstanding which 
it may so happen, that every time he speaks and acts he cannot help 
playing the fool for the blood of him. 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide 
Treatment Date: Feb. 2009 

PreservationTechnologies 

I A WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 

111 Thomson Park Drive i 

Cranberry Township, PA 1 6066 1. 

(724)779-2111 BjEj 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




014 066 785 7 



<^^^^%%!^^??^?^ 






A 



